The Amanaman Trilogy
by Mac
Summary: This story expands 'Tales From Jabba's Palace'
1. Default Chapter Title

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

STAR WARS

THE TALE OF THE HEAD HUNTER

PART I

THE PRIZED HEAD

** **

by

Doug Mac Donald

  
  
        High above a dull, milky-gray cataract eye of a world a rebel assault shuttle appeared from lightspeed, without warning and to the complete shock of the entire crew. The **_Salvation_** had just made the jump to hyperspace only moments ago after a hit and run rescue mission, to suddenly find themselves violently pulled back into real space. With a shudder, metal screeched as though the ship was going to tear itself apart. It rocked, engines sputtering. Proximity alarms went off like a pack of shrieking womprats; rebel troopers and officers ran about to regain their stations. The captain stood from his chair, taking it all in.   
        "Shields up to full. All available batteries standby."   
        The captain's first mate came running to him at that moment. "Sir, sir, it appears we've...."   
        The captain cut him off sharply. "We've been caught by an interdiction field."   
        "Sir!" Came another voice. "Weapons are still running at thirty percent."   
        "Damn. Full stop. Turn this crate around. How are shields?"   
        "Sixty and rising. Won't get more than seventy-two."   
        Another voice came at the captain, "Sir two ships coming in, one's a capital, the other a freighter."   
        Racing almost along the exact trajectory as the **_Salvation_**, the first was a freighter called the **_Scour_**, which was desperately trying to evade a barrage of laser blasts coming from an Imperial Star Destroyer. The two were heading on a collision course toward the **_Salvation_** at full throttle.   
        "Take evasive action!" the captain called out, taking his command chair. He watched as slowly, interminably his ship rotated to escape the two ships. His eyes wavered uncertainly for the first time to his first mate.   
        "This was supposed to be the easy part," he muttered. His ship had been badly damaged from a long hard battle. The **_Salvation_** had just attacked an Imperial prison facility on Tanteract, rescuing seventy-seven rebel prisoners. The mission to hit the world and save as many prisoners as possible had been carefully planned for months. All available reports showed that once the attack was done within the projected timed guidelines; there was no window of opportunity for the Empire to get a capital ship there for support in time to stop them. And yet here they were, yanked from hyperspace and under attack. The rescue mission had caused them severe damage, mostly to their weapons systems and their shields. And it appeared that their sudden drop down to sub-light had tortured their engines as well.   
        "Captain Merrill! We're being hailed by the freighter sir."   
        The first mate interjected at this point, leaving the Captain to oversee the retreat. "Very well, open a channel. This is Lieutenant Mortwick of the starship **_Salvation_**. What is your status freighter?"   
        An alien sound came through the bridge's speakers, clearly it was another language, but the sound that had made it could not be classified as a voice. It sounded like a deep bass-like rumble, and it was not in their computer's translation banks.   
        "We can't make anything from it, sir, but the ship is broadcasting a distress signal."   
        Mortwick grunted at this. "I bet." Assault Shuttles like assault frigates had no docking bays, but did have several umbilical docking tubes. They could not understand the alien's plea, but it was obvious to all that the freighter was in distress, being fired upon by a Star Destroyer. They couldn't just leave the freighter to its own devices, and yet slowing down to allow the ship to dock could very well doom them all.   
        The first mate stood, nervously watching the viewscreens as the Star Destroyer came at them. If they were going to do something, they had better do it quick. Uncertainly, the Lieutenant made his decision. "Close the channel, we can't afford to..."   
        "Negative, Lieutenant," the captain cut in.   
        "With all due respect captain, that unmarked freighter is likely to be a smuggler, or something worse. We need to get out of here."   
        The captain nodded once. "That ship doesn't stand a chance, and besides we could use its firepower if we're going to get out of this mess. Slow this crate down and allow the ship to dock. I just hope that pilot is good enough to try a high speed dock."   
        "But sir, what about that Star Destroyer?"   
        "We're going to ignore it. Make a heading toward the Interdictor cruiser in the distance. Our only priority is to get back to base and we can't do that until we shut down that gravity well."   
        The **_Salvation_** rocked at that moment as several stray blasts hit its shields. The captain watched as the space freighter closed the gap between them, and to the captain's relief, the pilot was good enough to dock. It took only a few quick moments for the **_Scour_** to dock with the assault shuttle. Turning at that moment, front shields at full, the shuttle launched itself at the Star Destroyer, firing all available weapons. When the Star Destroyer fired back the Empire was too late, its velocity was too great, and both ships passed each other without inflicting any major damage.   
        Inside of the assault shuttle, a small-armed security team made their way to the docking tube to greet the visitor and determine if the pilot was friend or foe. The docking tube was silent; distantly the security team could hear the muffled explosions of laser blasts impacting against the shields. The airlock opened, revealing the **_Scour_**'s tall gray docking door. The team waited a breath before stepping forward. The door to the freighter opened with a loud click and a soft hiss.   
        No one appeared.   
        They could hear rhythmic dripping coming from inside the ship. There was moisture on the inside of the hatch, and it ran off into a small puddle onto the deck plates of the docking tube. No other sound could be heard, except for the soft dripping of water.   
        The security sergeant motioned for two of his men to step forward to take a look. Two of the armored troopers warily made their way forward until the dripping was splattering on their helmets as they stepped into the darkness. The floor plates trembled as a fearful roar rattled every transparisteel window in the docking tube. The two forward guards were violently pulled into the darkness with screams that were abruptly silenced. The welcoming party had just enough to time to bring their weapons up before a creature came racing down the docking tube. Its entire bulk filled the hallway and it was a wonder that it could close the distance between it and its prey in such small quarters, so quickly.   
        Stomping through the tunnel was a nahlee, a lizard-like creature, with large flat feet with only two toes; it did not stand erect, but bobbed, its spine completely perpendicular to its legs. It had a short stubby tail that swayed with each step, acting as a balancing tool. Its large head was nearly a meter long and almost half as wide with tiny brown eyes that seemed to dart everywhere. As it ran, its maw remained opened, as if hungry, displaying a row of teeth that were numerous and sharp. Its skin was thick and leathery and patched with dark green. Mashed between its teeth were the remains of the two forward guards.   
        The sergeant disappeared next, his upper torso caught in the nahlee's mouth. The creature stopped, firmly planting its feet onto the metal deck. It spun and whipped its tail sweeping the rest of the security squad across the bay. Laser blasts went wild, striking the ceiling and the walls. The acrid smoke from the damage seemed to enrage the beast further and it turned and let loose a roar so loud all other sound was drowned out. And then it stomped into the group of men.   
        The pilot of the **_Scour_** appeared from his ship when the battle was complete, walking with large hulking feet that smacked the metal with each stride. The creature held only a wooden staff with three branches growing from the top. The alien murmured to himself in that same low bass-rumble the bridge crew had heard earlier. As he appeared from the shadows of his ship, it was clear that the creature was a full two feet taller than the average human. His skin was yellow up the front, while the back was patched heavily with a darker green. His exaggerated arms dragged across the floor and his long fat neck seemed to stretch forever. Crimson eyes scrutinized everything. It was an Amanin.   
        He continued to walk forward, mumbling to himself. When he reached the dying, screaming security team he gave a slight bow of his triangular head and patted the nahlee on the head.   
           
        The Amanin slipped into the main corridor, mindful of the new alarms coming from the docking tube. The alien slipped down into another darkened hallway, everything was submerged in an eerie red glow as the ship went to red alert. Already more humans were racing to the docking tube to see what the new commotion was. The Amanin rumbled aloud now, pretending to try to communicate with the oncoming humans, he kept his face calm, red eyes deep and dark. With eerie calm, the creature waved one of his great arms in the direction he had come.   
        The leader of the squad kept his weapon trained on the alien. "Take the squad ahead, and shut down this corridor, I don't want anymore surprises." The humans turned and continued their race. The squad leader remained behind with another officer.   
        "You there, follow us."   
        The Amanin rumbled and gestured to the docking tube again.   
        "Our men will handle the situation sir, but this area must be locked down, including all sentients within. When everything is back under control, you will be sent to your ship until the captain has a moment to greet you personally. So if you'll just come with us." The guard motioned with his weapon that he was serious.   
        The creature seemed to shrug in resignation and stepped up to the two guards. They lifted their chins to look the creature in the eyes; it was a long way up to look. The Amanin's palms fell to their shoulders, fingers so long, that the tips reached the small of their backs. He patted their shoulders as if to say, 'sure, no problem'. The guard, who had done the talking nodded his head, pleased that a fight would not ensue.   
        A messy explosion of red and gray matter splattered the bulkhead. What remained of the two soldiers fell to the ground, headless. The alien turned his hands around to see the remains of the guards. The head in his right hand was still intact; the left was a thick mass of skull and flesh. He dropped the mess of human head and stuck the intact head onto a spike of his wooden stick. Satisfied, the alien continued through the **_Salvation_**. He moved with great speed, swinging from the overhead pipes. Occasionally he would let itself drop to the floor, where he would waddle on its short legs. The ship rocked violently again as the Star Destroyer let loose another barrage of blasts, which was keeping a modest distance in order to keep it in its sights. The Amanin came across several other crewmembers that met the same demise as the guards.   
        And then the hunter entered the bridge.   
        Captain Merrill seemed not to notice, as he was intently watching the viewscreen before him and the Interdictor cruiser they were attacking. One of the gravity well projectors on the starcruiser erupted into a massive flame. With that down, so was the gravity field that kept the **_Salvation_** prisoner. A cheer erupted through the bridge, but Merrill remained grim, knowing they were far from free. The jump to hyperspace lay ahead, and there was no telling if the ship could survive it.   
        Many of the crew turned to look at the intruder, but before any move could be made, the Amanin withdrew a modified BlasTech rifle (modified to fit his gargantuan hands) and opened fire. Several dozen blaster shots later, after the smoke and confusion cleared itself, only one man remained alive. Captain Merrill. He knelt before his command chair, with his hands over his head, shaking with fright. The **_Salvation_** sailed silently through space, weapons no longer firing. As the ship rocked again from attack, the alien seemed to pay no attention to the captain, as though he did not know one man still lived. He made his way to the main controls and punched in several commands, rerouting all remaining weapon power to the shields. With that done, the creature plotted a nav jump and relayed it over to his ship's computer.   
        Merrill, finally finding his strength again, slipped a blaster out of his dead lieutenant's hand and made himself visible. The Amanin reacted as violently as the nahlee had and sent the captain flying across the bridge with one swipe of his giant hand.   
  
        Moment's later under a final and continuous assault against the **_Salvation_** the **_Scour_** disembarked from the failing ship and blasted away from the battle. The Destroyer, intent on the rebel ship, fired a few shots at the **_Scour_** without much success. With coordinates set, the freighter disappeared with a shudder of pseudomotion leaving behind the fiery destruction of the **_Salvation_** and the death of the seventy-seven rebel prisoners.   
  


* * * * *

  
        The **_Scour_** was one of the less-known freighters in the Hunter's Guild, it was a centuries old design of the Mon Calamari that had been discarded when the Mon Cal's abandoned their efforts to build freighters in order to provide the Rebellion with warships. The ship was similar in shape to a manta ray, with a large front that hooked back in two great wings. Protruding from the center-rear portion of the ship was a single thruster. The belly of the ship had also been fitted with smaller fatter cylinder-like thrusters. The cockpit sat atop of the starship, toward the front, giving the pilot a wide view of the galaxy around him. The ship was heavy and bulky, and slowing it down even more was the thick heavy armor that protected it.   
        The interior of the ship had been heavily modified to allow for the comfort of Amanins. The cockpit controls had to be completely water resistant to be able to withstand the amount of moisture that Amanins found comfortable. Their wrinkly skin had to be kept moist for the most part, although most could live under the driest conditions for long periods of time. Running along either side of the hallways were small ditches catching the moisture to be recycled back into the ship's environment. Water dripped continuously in every room and every hallway of the **_Scour_**.   
        Several different kinds of vegetation were also thriving on the ship. Mosses and algae covered the metal walls in great patches, while olive green plants littered the hallways, plants with yellow fronds that were found on the Amanin homeworld of Maridun. These plants offered camouflage for the Amanins, although not needed on the freighter it was akin to painting a room with your favorite color.   
        The Amanin, known as Skr'tee in the Hunter's Guild rarely used this spacecraft, and then only on important missions. The **_Scour_** was never seen at Jabba's Palace, instead the Amanin chose a simple GAT-12j Skipray to be seen in, which he used for most of his hunts. Satisfied that the ship had not been heavily damaged, the Amanin slipped from his oversized pilot chair and swinging from the branches that were growing across the ceiling, made his way down to the cargo bay.   
        Skr'tee's apprentice met the bounty hunter there. The cargo bay looked like a jungle, hanging from the ceiling were great vines that dripped from the continuous moisture. A thick layer of soil covered the deck plates sprouting dozens of varieties of ferns from the homeworld.   
         The apprentice was a smaller creature who spent most of his spare time with the nahlee, ensuring the creature was well taken care of and well fed. There they exchanged a few words about the condition of the ship and of the nahlee.  Skr'tee asked in his native tongue.   
        Averting his eyes the apprentice replied:    
           
        The nahlee stopped chewing on a rebel officer for a moment to look up at Skr'tee as though it knew it was being talked about. After a few seconds the nahlee resumed its meal. Strewn across the ground were dozens of severed heads that the creature didn't even consider for food. The beast was chained down by both hind legs, never free to roam the ship unless it had a purpose to. Skr'tee came up to the nahlee which dwarfed even the Amanin and hit the creature across the snout with his staff. The nahlee shuffled back, shuddering. The Amanin swept up all of the heads into his hands, fitting no less than four in each.   
        In the rear of the cargo bay was a tiny cell, the bars of which were charged with pure energy. Behind it, Captain Merrill sat trying to ignore the awful crunching of bone that at one time belonged to his crew. "What's happened to my ship?" he demanded. "Where are the rest of my crew?" Skr'tee was silent. "All right then, where are you taking me?"   
        The bounty hunter ignored the human and began placing the heads in a metal tub where they would be chemically treated to remain fresh for years to come. Skr'tee held his two hands together, bringing them to his gleaming ruby eyes. The heads stared back blankly; the Amanin did not notice the blood on his hands. These heads were unremarkable as most humans went, oh there were one or two that caught his eyes, but the others he would bring back home and add to his collection. It was Merrill that the Amanin wanted and so there lay the problem. Jabba the Hutt had put a bounty on the captain, quite a large one in fact but it only paid so well when the hunted one was brought in alive. Yes, Merrill would fit nicely on his new staff, very nicely indeed. The head was a good size. The eyes would have to be removed of course, but this human had excellent bone structure, his jaw was long and the cheeks hollow. An excellent specimen indeed.   
        "Hey, you!" the captain shouted. The nahlee, hearing the disturbance growled in annoyance and set its eyes on the rebel captain. The Amanin stepped up to the cell, staring down; a thick translucent tongue appeared from the creatures' mouth running across his thin blood red lips.   
        "What ever you're getting paid is small compared to what I can get you. Other bounties as well. I have some friends in the Rebellion that needs hunters. Can you understand me? Are you listening?"   
        Skr'tee turned to the nahlee and simply stared at the creature. The nahlee stood up on its hind legs with a roar and raced over to the cell. The apprentice fell back in surprise. Each time the beasts' massive foot came down, the floor rocked, throwing Merrill to the ground. The creature stopped only inches away from the charged bars, caught by its chains, and then gave a piercingly loud burst of a roar. Merrill closed his eyes and covered his ears with his hands. Nahlee's were empaths to a certain degree, when they spent enough time around a master; they developed a rapport, where most of the time speech was not needed to command them. Skr'tee had grown this particular creature from a babe, and their mental rapport felt impervious at times.   
        Skr'tee switched off the power to the cell and opened it. Merrill was still quaking in his uniform when the Amanin stepped up to him, his long fingers wrapping around his head....   


* * * * *

  
        Skr'tee arrived on Tatooine late into the night when the planet was at its coolest, and the court of Jabba the Hutt was full to capacity. The Amanin arrived in the Skipray, its precious nahlee back on Maridun where it was free to roam. He had learned from the past not to bring the nahlee to Jabba's palace too often. It would always be brought in to fight Jabba's latest beast, now a rancor. As much as Skr'tee enjoyed the bloodbaths, both the nahlee and rancor would not stop until both were dead. To have a dead nahlee was not profitable in any way, even for its head.   
        Skr'tee entered the Palace, walking with his wooden cane covered by a tattered cloth, followed by his apprentice. The younger creature had no name as he had not earned it by going through the Amanin right of passage, but the creature was six feet tall and had green skin running up the front of his belly and the back was a darker, moss green color. Following the two aliens, was a jade protocol droid, painted with stripes along its back similar to Skr'tee. The droid had been modified over the years, its neck stretched and elongated to look more 'Amanamanish'. Its normal human-like hands were replaced by great clumsy looking digits that looked completely out of place on the droid. The protocol droid carried a brown sack full of something meaty and wet.   
        Stopping suddenly, the headhunter turned to his apprentice, wrapping his elongated fingers around the smaller Amanin's head. Menacingly, Skr'tee leaned over and with a violent tug, brought the little one's face closer.  With another bout of violence, he released the runt's head and resumed his trek to the audience chamber.   
        The apprentice rocked from the movement, and leaned up against a wall to steady himself. Cautiously, the runt followed. He did not like Jabba's Palace, the very concrete of the place reeked of death and dishonor. He would be glad when they left this place, this planet.   
        They entered the court in the middle of another one of Max Rebo's improvised songs. Skr'tee could hear the whisperings already, his presence was legend among a few of them while others gave the creature no second thought. Skr'tee paused at the center of the dance floor, mindful of Jabba's infamous trap door. The apprentice kept a respectful distance away and followed Skr'tee's protocol instructions to the letter. The protocol droid and apprentice both nodded twice at Jabba and then came to one knee and bowed before the great one. Skr'tee bowed to no one.   
        "Bo Shudda, Skr'tee." The slug belched out.   
        The droid and runt both rose and stood still. The protocol droid came forth at that moment and produced the sack. From the sack, a body slipped and fell with a smack against the cold stone, clothes completely saturated with blood. It was the headless Captain Merrill.   
        Jabba's roar was deafening, making his rage more than apparent. "What is the meaning of this headhunter?" the bloated one spat. The music suddenly stopped, an oppressive silence descended upon the court. "You continue to disappoint me. Where is this bounty's head?"   
        Skr'tee stepped forward and with a quick motion of his hand, removed the tattered cloth covering the staff to reveal a white-sun bleached face skewered onto the lowest point of his staff. Captain Merrill's eyeless, open-mouthed face stared back at the Hutt. The Amanin began to talk as the translator droid performed its duty:   
        "Doubtless you know of the rituals mighty Jabba, but I do not expect to be understood in this matter. The bounty has been handed over. Skr'tee seeks payment."   
        Jabba heaved a mighty, angry sigh and cut off the protocol droid. "The killing of this rebel was my pleasure, bounty hunter not yours! Why have you brought this man back headless?"   
        The Amanin's head sunk, only slightly as he rumbled something in his defense. The protocol droid translated. "It began, mighty Jabba after accepting to hunt down this bounty for his exhaultedness. The story is short, but no less meaningful. The longest part of my journey consisted of tracking down the bounty, the details of which I will not bore this court with now. Suffice to say that even in the Rebellion there are those who do not hold the same ideals as their leaders. Captain Merrill was continuously surrounded by his peers and fully protected at all times, and I knew that the only time I could capture the bounty was when the bounty accepted a rescue mission to Tanteract, an Imperial prison center. Merrill was taking only a single Assault shuttle and thus he was vulnerable." Skr'tee paced around the court now, speaking not only to Jabba, but to all of the bounty hunters there.   
        The droid continued to translate: "I contacted the Imperial Moff responsible for the garrison on the planet to warn of the attack. I was ignored and laughed at. But this hunter would get the final laugh. I then learned through many resources of an Imperial warship en route to the Outer Rim. If the Empire would not come to me, then I would bring the Empire to me. Time had run very short, and the rescue mission was already assembling to Tanteract. The prison facility stood no chance. I had to think fast."   
        Skr'tee waved his arms around, Merrill's fresh head bobbed on the stick. "After tracking down the Imperial Star Destroyer travelling to the Outer Rim, I arrived to intercept the warship. With it, it had an Interdictor cruiser. And so I did the only thing I could do. I fired upon the Destroyer and sped away. The Empire, lured by the bait, pursued. Before the Interdictor could power up, I made several small jumps to keep ahead of the Empire. After each jump, I did not wait long to jump again, always staying in front. And then, after the final jump to the Tanteract system, I tarried with purpose, allowing the Empire to activate their gravity well keeping my ship within the system.   
        "The Empire also caught another unsuspecting animal in its trap. The starship **_Salvation_** which also carried the bounty I was hunting."   
        The Amanin stopped and turned to the apprentice and now seemed to finish the rest of his tale to the young creature, to ensure that the lessons being taught were being received. Skr'tee told of how he pretended to be a ship in distress and how the **_Salvation_** allowed him to dock. The bounty hunter told of how he provided a rather large distraction with the nahlee (at which Jabba rumbled laughter) and how he had made his way to the bridge. And then Skr'tee altered his story at this point saying the Empire's numerous barrages against the ship caused the death of the Captain.   
        "Careless of me undoubtedly, but since the bounty had already been killed, I took the bounties head as is the custom of my race." The Amanin told of how the Rebels had wounded the Interdictor cruiser, which allowed his ship to jump to hyperspace. "And so ended my task." The protocol droid bowed low when he finished translating and remained that way until Jabba spoke. "And so, now I seek payment."   
        The Hutt stared silently at Skr'tee, puffing on his pipe contemplating the story. No one moved, or dared to breathe for fear of breaking the silence. The Hutt did not smile, nor laugh, he did nothing except speak one word: "Music."   
        After what seemed to be an eternity of silence, the band started up. The protocol droid was unsure if this was a dismissal and remained bowed until Skr'tee told him to get up and report back to the ship. As Skr'tee walked away, guiding his young apprentice with several shoves, to a dark corner of the main hall, the bounty hunter received several nods of respect, but everyone kept their distance from the creature. Anyone who would willingly attack a Star Destroyer in order to catch a bounty was obviously ill in the mind. The odor of Merrill's decaying head left a stench that was noticeable above all others.   
        In their corner, the two beings conversed in their own language.   
         Skr'tee asked.   
           
           
           
        Skr'tee never complimented anyone, but was impressed nevertheless. But there was suspicion now in his eyes; perhaps this runt learned too well, too fast.    
        The young apprentice sipped at his ale, eyes roving the audience chamber, eyes finally falling on Jabba. He did not answer, for speech was allowed only when granted. The apprentice didn't even nod. While the runt sipped his ale, Skr'tee lifted a small satchel he had draped over his shoulder and put it on the table. Seeing this, the runt did the same, it was always customary to show and sometimes trade heads after a hunt story. The runt's satchel was much smaller, less time worn, made of nahlee skin. Skr'tee's was much larger and made of some unknown substance, perhaps the skin of some creature the runt had never encountered. The runt eyed it with envy.   
        Without a word Skr'tee unpacked the contents of the sack, some of the heads were generations old, others were fresher kills of very little value.  the headhunter explained.   
         He said lifting another skull onto his fingertips. 'Tough skulls and skins, not difficult to find completely intact. Ysalamiri. Thin, fragile, not one whole in entire galaxy, but this one. What have you runt? Did you complete your tasks?>   
        Shyly, the smaller Amanin pulled out a few tiny skulls including a Ranat and an Ithorian. The heads were average, but the bounty hunter noticed that the runt was reluctant to divulge the last content of the sack. Angered, Skr'tee swiped all of the heads off of the table, including his own. They flew across the booth, shattering against a stone wall.   
         The anger in his voice was unmistakable. The runt reached for the last object in the sack but suddenly found himself on the floor. Skr'tee's backhand had found his head, it was several seconds before the room came back into focus. The runt did not get up then, for he knew well that more pummeling would present itself without first getting Skr'tee's permission to stand.   
        Skr'tee was silent for a very long time as he pulled the final head out of the runts sack, a head the runt was trying to hide. Envy now entered Skr'tee's eye. The creature spoke, voice low with admiration of the piece:    
        'I should ask where this was found, but I think the answer is coming in due time,' he thought.   
        Skr'tee said nothing as he left the audience chamber, leaving the runt behind where he would stay kneeling for several hours, until Skr'tee sent the protocol droid to retrieve him. Well after the Amanin was gone, Bib Fortuna came over to the apprentice and speaking Amanish, beckoned the runt to stand before Jabba.   
           
        Fortuna's fanged smiled did little to soothe the creature.  The Twi'lek was infamous for his impatience and in his own tongue lashed out. "Nutcha!" The Amanin struggled to his feet and stood before Jabba the Hutt. The Hutt remained quiet, listening to the music and when he was quite ready, began speaking to the apprentice.   
  
        Skr'tee spent the next several days at Jabba's Palace (after sending the runt back to Maridun for more studies) during one of the largest parties he had ever attended. Several days ago, Fett had brought in a wonderful bounty in a most peculiar way. And this entire party had seemed to be in honor of the captured Corellian. Skr'tee spent much of that night with Ephant Mon. They had known each other for years, and were both highly respected in all of Jabba's minions, a very short but prestigious list of characters: Boba Fett, Bib Fortuna, Ephant Mon and Skr'tee. Although Skr'tee never associated with Fett, the head hunter always kept one red eye on Fett, for he knew that one day the Mandalorian would be after him, one never kept good grace with Jabba forever. Perhaps that was why Skr'tee spent so much time with Ephant Mon, the only creature in the galaxy who had lasted so long alongside Jabba. Skr'tee had little respect for Mon, the poor creature was never seen bringing in a bounty, he always kept to the shadows, and seemed to do nothing in the way of entertainment.   
        'Why does Jabba keep this creature around? What use does he serve?'   
        Occasionally, Skr'tee had seen Jabba and Mon speaking for several hours, but the hunter did not know the subject of these conversations.   
        'Some tale Mon must have to receive such graces from the bloated one. A fine tale indeed. And what a magnificent head you have, Mon. Far better than any of your races'. Perhaps one day you will be on the Hutt's wanted list and Skr'tee will come collecting.'   
        On the final day of the Amanin's stay there was an escape attempt, albeit sloppy, and the party moved on to the Dune Sea. But it was time Skr'tee returned to the runt to complete his training.   
        'Pity, self would have enjoyed seeing Fett's bounty get tossed the Sarlacc.'   


* * * * *

  
        The nahlee broke from the green and yellow foliage, bringing down trees with each mighty step. Skr'tee found himself racing at full speed away from the pet, under yet another thunderstorm that Maridun was accustomed to. Each time thunder cracked, the nahlee gave another triumphant and deafening roar. The Amanin continued to run, hand clasping his injured side. He barely kept ahead of the nahlee, for running on both legs was not easy for Skr'tee. And he needed both hands to swing through the forest with any speed, but he could not lest he removed his hand from his side and let his guts spill to the ground. The bounty hunter chanced a glance behind and could still see chunks of his yellow-green flesh in the nahlee's teeth. Now weaponless, the Amanin made his way deeper into the forest, hoping that the thick darkness would provide cover from the rabid nahlee. Skr'tee continued to fire thought commands at the rampaging creature, but to no avail. And wherever he ran, the nahlee followed, which was no wonder at all, for they could see into each other's minds. But when these creatures became excited it was difficult to read theirs.   
        Skr'tee had never had difficulty making the nahlee obey, it seemed as though something else was controlling it as it splashed through muddy rain puddles.   
        Hot breath caressed his spine. Skr'tee squealed as the nahlee's mouth clamped down on his leg. With a snap of its neck, the nahlee tossed the Amanin around like a rag doll. Skr'tee could feel the monster's teeth rubbing against each other inside his flesh. He raked his long-spiked fingers across the nahlee's right eye, drawing blood and rage. The nahlee roared in fury, jaws opening wide, but Skr'tee was still skewered by the creature's bottom fang. With all of his might, Skr'tee pulled his leg free with a scream that drowned out the nahlee's. The Amanin fell to the ground. Fighting a bout of darkness descending, he struggled to his feet and took off again, this time in the opposite direction.   
        The bounty hunter found a clearing and made his way to it, knowing that this would make himself open to another attack. But Skr'tee knew these parts well and if he could make it past the clearing, the hunter may be able to regroup. The nahlee suddenly appeared in his path from a mighty leap; lunging at the hunter, it's mouth came crashing down. But Skr'tee had moved quicker and the giant mouth found only a tree. The nahlee ripped the tree out of the ground, roots and all and thrashed its head back and forth as though it had found a live prey. Confused, the creature dropped the tree and continued the chase.   
        Skr'tee made it through the clearing and was now running to a marsh, where he knew a place where he could be safe. A red flash of lightening streaked across the black sky, the rain came down harder. The marsh was alive with all sorts of activity and sounds. A small pinch at the back of the Amanin's neck made him curse. He slapped at the insect that had attached itself to his skin, squishing it beneath his mighty palm. Removing his hand, the bounty hunter saw the large insect that had been crushed.   
        'Garnesh are out in swarms tonight.'   
        Knowing that nahlee's were not afraid of water, the Amanin dove into the oil-dark water and sent a clear mental image to his pet. Through the water, Skr'tee could hear the creature's muffled roar, followed by a giant splash. The Amanin continued to swim into the depths, his neck gills working overtime, and did not stop until he was sure the chase had ended. Moments later the hunter broke to the surface to see the nahlee waist deep in water rocking back and forth with rage. It's tiny arms pinwheeled madly. Its stout tail slammed against the surface of the water, sending great sheets of swamp water into the air.   
        Just as the hunter had planned, the nahlee's great bulk had disturbed several hives of garnesh, angering them into a swarm that attacked the creatures bulk. A thick cloud of hungry insects hovered around the nahlee, infuriating the creature. The nahlee crashed to one knee from the thousands of bites it received. The Amanin dove back under the surface and swam toward the poor tortured creature. Seeing in its mind eye, the nahlee saw its master swimming toward it, but being filled with pain was unable to defend itself. Skr'tee leapt from the depths, hands reaching for the nahlee's jaw. Placing a great foot on the nahlee's belly, the Amanin yanked at the jaw. Stubbornly, it did not move, only creaked as the animal tried to thrash its head out of the Amanin's grasp. One hand broke free, but Skr'tee quickly recovered.   
        The garnesh were biting Skr'tee now, but he ignored them. The nahlee slowly weakened, and Skr'tee found that he could pull the creature's jaw easier now. The nahlee fell to it's other knee and the Amanin made his move. With a thunderous crack, the mouth of the nahlee snapped in two places, spewing forth a river of blood onto Skr'tee and making the garnesh frenzy. Exhausted, Skr'tee waded away from the dead beast and away from the garnesh, wondering how he had gotten into this predicament in the first place...   
  
        ...Skr'tee had arrived on Maridun hours late, deterred by Fortuna and then by Jabba commanding the bounty hunter to stay and for the Sarlacc's feeding. Skr'tee explained that he would not survive the heat of Tatooine's two suns at the height of the day. With that, Jabba allowed for his leave. As he raced home through hyperspace, the Amanin was uneasy with how he was not forced to watch Solo's death as so many had been. It was unlike Jabba to give in so easily, especially when it came to another's discomfort. But his mind was focused on the runt, he wished to hunt down the runt and watch his progress from a distance. Clearly the runt had aide in his studies, coached by another in fact. Skr'tee wanted to discover whom.   
        It had not taken the bounty hunter long to find the apprentice, but where he found him was quite shocking. There was a cave, not far from Skr'tee's home that housed the **_Scour_**. It was here, inside the cave that he kept most of his treasured heads (a Duros, a Whaladon, and even a Hutt). The runt had been standing at the entrance to the cave; the **_Scour_** had been moved out of the cave and left under the gray skies. The runt was admiring the ship, running his growing fingers across the bottom of the ship. On the ground were a couple of heads that the runt had been instructed to hunt.   
        'Impossible, no runt could hunt such creatures so timely. This runt has had help.'   
        The Amanin used his staff to clear away some of the forest before him.   
        From the hidden section of his staff, a small blaster fell to the ground. He was about to pick it up when a loud crash was heard from behind. Skr'tee turned to see his attacker and was nearly paralyzed by shock. It was the nahlee, no doubt feeling his own rage at the young apprentice. But Skr'tee had been wrong, there were no thoughts in the nahlee's mind but blind red rage. Before the Amanin could react, the nahlee had turned its head and chomped down on the creature's side, ripping out a large chunk of flesh.   
        Skr'tee stumbled back, losing his precious staff, still missing a third head. And from there, things turned dark.   
  
        Skr'tee pulled himself onto the far bank of the marsh and sat for several minutes applying mud to his various wounds. He was a skilled healer as well as a hunter, although he knew he would be spending several weeks in a bacta tank after this hunt was complete. A laser blast rang out, forcing the hunter to jump to his feet and take to the forest again. Between the darkness, the thunder and lightning and now the laser blasts, the Amanin could not concentrate well, nor plan for escape. He still did not know his attacker; the Amanin had several enemies undoubtedly, but which one?   
        The injured creature's trek had brought him full circle, back to his land. He raced immediately to the **_Scour_** where he had several weapons stored and could defend himself. Skr'tee raged at the vessel for it would not open to his personal codes. Each one had been changed. Without another thought, the bounty hunter made his way to the Skipray. Skr'tee did not travel very far when his enemy appeared in the darkness, outlined in a flash of red lightning.   
        The runt stood at the edge of the clearing wielding Skr'tee's staff in one hand and in the other a modified rifle. A crazed glare had entered the runt's eyes, but he did not speak.   
         Skr'tee rumbled a laugh full of malice and contempt.    
        _   
        The Amanin rumbled another laugh.  The bounty hunter shook his head at that.    
        The rain continued to pelt the two creatures. __   
         Skr'tee corrected. The runt winced inwardly at this, for he had felt the nahlee's death.  Skr'tee continued, stalling for more time.   
           
         It was becoming clearer now to Skr'tee. The Hutt head he kept was that of Tarrick the Hutt. During the Hutt Wars, Jabba had posted a hefty bounty for Tarrick, a bounty in which Skr'tee had collected on. Now it would appear that Tarrick's uncle, Isleff wanted revenge. 'So runt had unlimited resources from Isleff, that is why he succeeded so quickly.'   
         the hunter asked.   
        The runt shook his head no.    
        Skr'tee screamed a curse to the rumbling skies, so loud and aggressive, that the runt stepped back uncertainly.    
           
         Skr'tee asked.   
        The runt shook his head no.   
           
        The runt's eyes narrowed unveiling his contempt for Jabba.   
        The bounty hunter threw his head back and laughed heartily. When his laughter died, the hard crimson eyes darkened. __ and then suddenly, Skr'tee pounced into the forest. Normally a lumbering race, Skr'tee's quick disappearance had surprised the runt who fired seconds late. The runt tracked the fleeing Amanin, firing several shots after him. Skr'tee dove and rolled back to his feet and continued to run toward the Skipray.   
        A laser blast nicked his pointed head, but the Amanin had tough skin and Skr'tee kept running. And then he saw the weapon he dropped before the day had unraveled itself. Stopping, the creature bent down and picked it up. The Amanin howled again, his voice filled the forest, poring in from every trail and every path. Skr'tee then disappeared into the foliage. A few seconds later the runt raced down the path, passing by his prey without knowledge. Skr'tee stepped from his hiding place and fired a shot into the runt's hand. The blaster fell and went off. Turning, the runt faced his attacker.   
        Skr'tee was still laughing as he adjusted the setting on his weapon.    
        The runt tossed the staff, landing just out of the Amanin's reach. Skr'tee chuckled at this and reached for it, never taking his eyes off of the apprentice. The runt turned and ran at that moment, but another laser blast to the young Amanin's spine brought him down. Their nervous system differed far from a human and the blast merely immobilized the creature, instead of killing him outright. Skr'tee came forward, walking proud with his staff in his hand once again.   
         The Amanin took the other's unmoving head into his hands and with great strength....   
_

* * * * *

  
        The Amanin strode through the halls of Jabba's Palace ignoring the looters and the chaos that had descended upon the crimelord's home. He walked with his staff, newly adorned with a third head that added another three feet to its length. A thick nahlee skin bandaged his side. A spidery droid scattered by.   
        'So many monks this day does not bode well at all. I must speak with Jabba, to be sure that Jabba was not behind this treachery. And if Jabba is not, then Jabba must hear of Isleff's evils.'   
        Struggling to keep up with the bounty hunter was the protocol droid who translated the Amanin's every word: "You there, thief!"   
        A Ranat stopped to look at the droid that spoke to him in his own language. "Jabba is dead! His place is free to loot! Take yours while you can, for the monks are already sealing off the palace."   
         he said.    
        The droid knocked the Ranat down with its great metal hand; the creature's spoils scattered across the ground. Skr'tee continued to walk toward the main audience chamber ignoring the screams of the Ranat as his head was separated from his body by the protocol droid. Perhaps Fortuna would have some contacts for him.   
        And then the halls echoed with a booming bass-like laugh.   
        Skr'tee raced forward, the heads on his staff swaying slightly with every stride. The laugh was the unmistakable laughter of a Hutt. Skr'tee noticed a thin trail of green slime leading down the hall, and turning toward the hangar bays, where Jabba's Sail Barge had set sail only days ago.   
        Skr'tee was too late, however. A desert skiff launched itself away from the Palace, even as it disappeared, Skr'tee could see that it was Isleff. The Hutt was covered from head to tail in an ebony cloak, unheard of for a Hutt, but Isleff rarely showed himself in public, and even then he covered himself. The Hutt's laughter echoed back to him, a haunting chuckle that mocked the Amanin. A laugh that said: 'I was the one responsible for taking your apprentice away', a laugh that said: 'Jabba cannot protect you now', a laugh that said: 'Never sleep, never let your guard down, because your head will be mounted on my palace doors if you do'.   
        The Amanin balled his fingers into a fist, sharp claws drawing blood from his palms. Standing proud next to Isleff was another Amanin. The headhunter bore a staff with three magnificent heads on it as well. Skr'tee could not make out the creatures face from the glare of the sun, but the bounty hunter knew that there was more to the runts story that had not been told. Much more.   
        Skr'tee stood in the shadow of the bay, leaning on his staff with all of his weight. The twin suns of Tatooine blazed from above, a dust storm was rising in the distance swallowing Isleff the Hutt's desert skiff, leaving the Amanin to stand and wonder at the new developments.   
        It would not end here. 

- TO BE CONTINUED -


	2. Default Chapter Title

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

STAR WARS

THE TALE OF THE HEAD HUNTER

PART II

HOUNDED

by

Doug Mac Donald

  
        Very little activity surrounded the Vinsioth system, made up of three planets in all, and only one supporting life. At the rear of the system was a tiny, almost insignificant asteroid belt, which spiraled with chunks of ice and rock, but other than that, the system was quiet. Quiet, except for the cruising speed of an Imperial Star Destroyer. It did not appear from lightspeed suddenly, nor did it come racing in at attack speed. This ship was here with a purpose, one that would not require immediate battle stations. The wedge-shaped starship sailed through the asteroid belt; not a single canon was fired as the small asteroids bounced off of the ship's shields. The Star Destroyer **_Contention_** converged with slow intent upon the Chevin homeworld and did not stop until it came into the planet's orbit.   
        From the belly of the ship dropped a squadron of Imperial T.I.E. fighters, surrounding a compliment of bombers. The convoy, unlike the mother ship, blasted off toward the planet's surface at full throttle, all weapons powering up to full. Seconds later, the fighters disappeared into the atmosphere...   
  
        The **_Scour_** sat amongst a myriad of activity as Chevin technicians fueled the ship; the cargo bay was full of grunts unloading several hundred crates of illegal weapons. It was early morning, there was a lot of moisture in the air, the grass still wet from dew. A thin scarf of fog receding into the distance covered the rolling grasslands. Standing in the center of all of this activity were two completely different beings, rarely seen together. Ephant Mon was shouting orders to his men, organizing them and his new cargo. When a careless grunt dropped one of the cases of explosives, Ephant Mon stepped away from the towering Amanin.   
        "Lookit' this mess, Albern D'or. This single crate holds enough explosive power to send ya back to your ancestors." The Chevin worker scrambled to repack the crate and move about his work. Once the crate was secure, only then did Ephant Mon return to the pilot who had brought this fresh load to him.   
        The Amanin rumbled something in his language.   
        Ephant Mon nodded his mighty head impatiently. "I know we're running late, Skr'tee. Nearly finished. Only a few more minutes - you there! Those torps should be over there, now move it! - So what were you saying?"   
        The Amanin leaned on the three-headed staff, his wounds fully healed over months of treatment.    
        The Chevin seemed annoyed by this and did not bother to hide it. In the distance what was once a very fine temple now lay in ruins. A once strong sect of believers worshipped there, a sect started by the Chevin in his spiritual quest that Luke Skywalker had set him upon. But that quest slowly meandered into nothingness, the temple crumbling into ruins. Ephant Mon turned on Skr'tee, his large hands balled into fists.   
        "Forget what you heard, bounty hunter, 'cause it ain't true." For a minute, the image of Luke Skywalker's face appeared before the Chevin, that smiling white face beneath a dark hood. "It ain't that easy to go back and it's even harder to stay." He muttered more to himself, than to the Amanin. "Anyway, you got news about Jabba, that's what I paid you for, so tell me, and then you can get outta here."   
           
        "I tried telling him, but would he listen? Well, I did what I could. Nothin' will change that. So who done 'im in? Tell me it wasn't Tessek."   
        Skr'tee shook his head ever so slightly. _   
        The Chevin grew angry with this. "Isleff! That don't surprise me at all. That Hutt had his filthy hands into everyone's credit pouch. So what does this mean to me? You're a hunter, not a smuggler, so there must be some reason why you came here." Ephant Mon looked up at the Amanin, glaring into its eyes. "Did you come for my hide, Skr'tee? Maybe you found some buried feelings and couldn't find it in you to hunt me, so now you're askin' me?" Ephant Mon laughed at this and barked another insult at some grunts.   
        __   
        "The only help you're gonna get from me Skr'tee, is to buy some of these weapons. Beyond that you're on your own. I don't owe Jabba anything. And I don't owe you, you've been paid good for transportin' these goodies to me."   
        The Amanin seemed to withdraw for a moment, craning his head to the skies as if in deep thought. __   
        "Now wait a minute...." The Chevin protested.   
        __ Skr'tee continued, ignoring the other creature, __**_all_** members of Jabba's court. Or perhaps Ephant Mon will just be added to my collection.> Skr'tee stroked the topmost head on his staff, the runt Amanin he had been training for so long.   
        Ephant Mon drew himself up to his full height, he did not back down, nor shiver with fear, when suddenly a large piercing whine cut off all conversation. "Everybody down!" Ephant Mon shouted, and then he tackled the Amanin.   
        Eight screaming T.I.E. fighters swooped down from the sky, followed by four bombers. The fighters opened fire, ripping apart the grass plains on either side of the **_Scour_** sending the smugglers running in all directions. Several blasts merely rocked the ground, sending geysers of dirt into the air. Others found their mark, slamming into the crates of weaponry. A crate of proton torpedoes erupted into a white fiery flash, incinerating dozens of Ephant Mon's fellow Chevins. Skr'tee cursed and came to his feet. He waved his staff in the air, shouting several curses at the Imperial fighters. He was about to run to the **_Scour_** when a bomber dove in and began dropping its load on the still-fueling freighter. Several of the torpedoes scored the inside of the docking bay, destroying the remaining of the smuggled weapons. A tiny inferno erupted inside of the **_Scour_**'s belly. Missiles of metal rocketed out of the bay, and across the plain. Shards of Skr'tee's ship skewered some of the fleeing Chevins.   
         Skr'tee screeched into the back of his staff that held a tiny computer that was linked directly to the ship.  The ship started to hum and took several more shots to the hull as the fighters racked its topside with more laser blasts. Skr'tee raced to his burning ship, leaving Ephant Mon to his fate.   
        Skr'tee opened a hole in the ship's shield to allow entrance and then raced to the helm. There, he keyed in the sequence to close the cargo bay doors and to initiate the fire extinguishers. Seconds later, the bounty hunter lifted the freighter into the air while five of the T.I.E. fighters pursued, showering the shields with a barrage of laser blasts. As the ship raised, the fueling lines, still attached to the ship, rose with it. With a sudden jarring burst of acceleration, Skr'tee ripped the fuel lines from the ship. Fuel spewed forth from the snaking lines, and from the **_Scour_**'s main fuel tank. The fighter pilots, seeing this blasted away at the fuel, igniting it, and the hull of the freighter. The fire in the **_Scour_**'s cargo bay had spread to the main corridors, the **_Scour_** rocked as one of the thrusters sputtered and died.   
         'Fire in engineering, all is not well. I must find out who attacker is.   
        Are they after me? Or after the Chevin?'   
        Skr'tee sealed off the cockpit at that point. Beneath the explosions and the stress of the hull screeching, a steady rhythmic pumping sound could be heard as Skr'tee emptied all of the oxygen from the ship. As the **_Scour_** breached the outer atmosphere, most of the fires had died, but the damage had already been done. Two of the main thrusters were damaged beyond repair and the shields were failing fast. The only system that had not suffered major loses were the weapons.   
        The blanket of stars on a black background appeared, the Amanin still had five fighters trailing him, while a new threat appeared. The **_Contention_** hung in a low orbit on full alert. It was the very same Destroyer that Skr'tee had fired upon in the Tanteract system. Four more fighters joined in on the chase.   
        'So, I have my answer. I am the Empire's target.'   
  
        Aboard the **_Contention_**, Captain Capet stood at the helm, right hand clenched into a tight fist through his leather glove. "Signal the T.I.E. fighters to begin pursuit. The bombers will stay behind and level the place. We can return later to mop up the weapon smugglers on the planet. Right now, our priority is to capture that ship."   
        "Yes sir, you'll have this scum within moments," Capet's first mate relayed the orders.   
        Capet was a young officer of the Imperial Navy, whose family had deep roots in the Emperor's Empire. His brother currently served as an Imperial Governor, and their father was once a Lord over several of the Emperor's star systems. Capet was a competent officer and served the Empire well. He had met several officers who entered the Academy under delusions, and only maintained their commission for fear of their own lives. But not Capet. When he joined he knew exactly where he wanted to be. When his fleet was ordered to attack a non-human colony and enslave them, he did so without a second thought. Capet masked his prejudices against non-humans as well as the Emperor did.   
        As the **_Contention_** turned to give chase, the captain felt his anger turn to delight. The pilot of the **_Scour_** had embarrassed him badly, and when his sources had learned it was an alien that had done so...he did everything in his power to track the Amanin down, though never leaving his Imperial duties behind, Capet just made sure they coincided. _

  
        The **_Scour_** was flying sluggishly with two engines off-line. The T.I.E. fighters had gained and were hammering the shields. Skr'tee remained calm in his pilot seat, allowing the fighters to come closer. The Star Destroyer was traveling at sub-light directly toward the freighter's path. A few more seconds and the ships turbo-lasers would be fully charged. The bounty hunter cursed as the **_Scour_** reduced its speed further as another engine sputtered and died.   
         Skr'tee called to the darkness of the cockpit.   
        The modified protocol droid appeared from the passageway. It did not speak, for it had been reprogrammed to respond only when spoken to by Skr'tee. All of its annoying protocol had been erased years ago.    
         the droid responded in Skr'tee's language.   
        The bounty hunter left the cockpit and raced down the corridors to the main cargo bay. He surveyed the damage through a porthole, before entering. The floor decks had melted and curled upwards, the ceiling supports had snapped, and hung from the ceiling, swaying back and forth with every lurch the ship made. The walls had no breaches, but were scarred black. Littering the floor were various crates and pieces of weaponry left from the Chevins after the attack had commenced. As the ship shuddered beneath the creature's great feet, Skr'tee made his way to a storage locker that had been charred black from the explosion. The locker was over three meters tall and nearly as wide. Opening it, the Amanin was pleased to see that the contents were undamaged. Leaving the locker opened, Skr'tee raced out of the cargo bay and slammed the door closed.   
         After a few seconds a monitor brightened, showing the rearview of the **_Scour_** and the fighters giving chase. The hunter watched and waited, three of the fighters had soared in a close formation, with the other three lagging behind. Exactly what Skr'tee was looking for. He slammed his fist down on the button that opened the cargo bay doors. Everything that was in the cargo bay was quickly sucked out into the vacuum of space.   
        A dead nahlee spiraled into the vacuum, followed by the storage locker that had held it. The creature spun directly into the path of the oncoming fighters. One fighter exploded brilliantly onto the poor beast, as the locker spun useless away. The explosion caught the nearest T.I.E. in its flames, while causing the third to use evasive maneuvers to avoid the cloud of debris that had appeared so suddenly in its path. Large sections of charred floor spun like rotating blades. Through expert piloting, the one T.I.E. managed to evade it, but another in the distance was skewered in two.   
        Six more ships remained in total.   
        A second idea bobbed to the surface of Skr'tee's mind as he raced back to the cockpit.    
        'I blasted away so quickly I did not chart escape vector. It is time I turned this ship around.'   
        The **_Scour_** blasted away from the **_Contention_**, and turned to face the remaining fighters.   
        Most of the ships had followed along Skr'tee's vector, but a few had been caught by surprise and found themselves directly in firing range of the freighter. Skr'tee opened fire, destroying one of the two ships as the other out-maneuvered the blasts. Now, with his flight path clear the **_Scour_** raced toward the edge of the system, toward the small asteroid belt. The belt itself was thin and narrow, impossible to fly into or even through it, leaving the pilot to fly over or under it. To the Empire the belt posed no threat, and certainly not to a Star Destroyer.   
        Skr'tee lowered his speed further, allowing the fighters to gain. The bounty hunter was buying time now, time enough to calculate the jump to hyperspace. The biggest threat to jumping to hyperspace in a battle was having a stray laser blast hit your ship just as you made the jump. Star Destroyers were notorious for its precision and the destruction it caused. Skr'tee had to put distance between him and the enemy in order to jump safely.   
        As the ship converged upon the Vinsioth Belt, Skr'tee keyed in the sequence to ready its concussion missiles. The auto-defense systems were working overtime to destroy the T.I.E. fighters, but the pilots were skillful and evaded all shots. The Amanin brought his ship over the belt; tiny chunks of ice and rock could be heard pouncing off of the hull. Some of the bigger ones, about two meters in diameter were the ones the hunter was looking for. His timing had to be flawless.   
           
        Skr'tee fired the first set of concussion missiles. Pausing, only for a moment, the hunter fired his rear quad lasers at the fighters, counting on the fact that they would evade the blasts.   
         the droid reported.   
        The missiles went off, only a meter away from one of the larger asteroids. The impact wave that followed hurled several asteroids away from the belt and into an evading T.I.E. fighter. The Amanin rumbled with laughter.   
        'As the fools evade my lasers, I provide a second danger.'   
        A second and third fighter followed the same demise shortly after that. The other pilots, fearing the same danger, veered away from the pursuit, allowing the Star Destroyer to have a clear shot.   
  
        "Repeat, all fighters return to bay."   
        The bridge of the **_Contention_** was alive with a frenzy of activity. "Lieutenant," Capet called. "That ship is going to make the jump to hyperspace! Detain it now!"   
        The lieutenant, who was sweating now, nodded.   
        "Hyperdrive on the **_Scour_** has just been activated, sir!" someone else called out.   
        The order to fire was finally given. Even if the ship made the jump, it would not do so successfully. The Star Destroyer's blasts would cripple the hyperdrive, and would only send the ship to the next system, all engines lifeless and nowhere for the pilot to go. Then they could make a short jump and pick up the **_Scour_**.   
        'If only my request for Interceptors had been put through, we would not be in this predicament,' the Captain thought. 'But the Emperor has gathered them all for some unknown reason...'   
        All forward batteries fired a storm of blasts at the **_Scour_**.   
  
        Seeing the fighters turn tail, Skr'tee banked the ship and pulled it away from the asteroid belt. Now the asteroid belt lay between the **_Scour_** and the **_Contention_**.   
         The protocol droid replied.   
         Skr'tee answered and launched a full set of concussion missiles. The missiles streaked away from the rear of the **_Scour_** toward the oncoming shower of green streaks. Mentally, the bounty hunter counted down, 'Three...two...one...'   
        When the missiles had reached the center of the asteroid belt, they ignited. The middle of the belt erupted from the shock wave, sending sheets of debris in every direction. Skr'tee's thick red lips stretched across his face in a satisfied grin.   
           
        The asteroid field lit up bright green as the Star Destroyer's blasts collided with it. A few of the blasts made it through the wall of rock, scoring against the freighter's hull. The **_Scour_** shuddered for a moment and then leapt forward, stars turning into silver lines, as Skr'tee made his escape.   
        Aboard the **_Contention_**, all was silent as all eyes fell upon Capet. The Captain stood at the front view port, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the asteroid belt. Sensors indicate that they had scored some major hits to the fleeing freighter, but not enough to damage its engines.   
        'Twice now you have embarrassed me bounty hunter. That will double the pain I will put you through when I have you. I just pray that my brother does not hear of this, or I will never hear the end of it.'   
        Turning to his command crew the Captain sighed heavily. "Return to Vinsioth, we still have a mess to clean up."   
        "Captain!" the communications officer barked as he ran toward his captain. He handed over a datapad and with a quick tight bow and then receded into the shadows with the first mate. His face had slackened; droplets of sweat were on his forehead fearing what Capet was going to do about the latest communication.   
        "Moff Jerjerrod?" Capet said aloud. What would the Emperor's latest favorite want with an Outer Rim garrison? He read the datapad and returned it to his officer, visibly shaken. "Belay previous order, Lieutenant."   
        "We won't be returning to Vinsioth, Captain?"   
        Capet shook his head. "No. Recall all fighters and set a course to the Endor system."   
        "Endor? But what's out there?"   
        "Apparently our destiny." 

* * * * *

  
        The **_Scour_** did indeed drop out of lightspeed, not in the next system but several systems beyond. The freighter coughed and moaned as it gave up its great speed to sublight. The hyperdrive motivator reverberated with a startling screech across the ship. The protocol droid raced to engineering with a quick shuffle, it could feel its gears and joints shaking all over its body. Engineering was a mess. A thick cloud of blue smoke gathered in the enclosure, poisonous fumes reigned above all else. The specially modified atmosphere systems for the **_Scour_** had been damaged, now streams of water were shooting directly into the motivator, sending sparks and flames into the air.   
        The droid put its hands up as though that could ward off the dangerous fires and then began working furiously at the layout and managed to shut down the environment systems. Moments later the ceiling and broken water mains stop dripping. The ship was still shaking badly as it struggled to slow down, the walls shook and more water mains broke, but no water spilled forth. And then slowly, interminably, the ship slowed down, the shaking subsiding until the only sound that remained was the screeching klaxons.   
        The droid turned and punched a button on the console, plunging the ship into silence. Satisfied that the immediate danger had ended, it shuffled over to the main pipe that had burst and stood directly below it, water dripping onto its metal head. The droid released a sigh as though it were a true Amanin. It began speaking into a nearby monitor,    
         the Amanin shrieked.    
        The droid could hear the tiny muffled alarm going off. It turned, head cocked to one side as it peered at the motivator and realized too late that there was nothing it could do.   
        The motivator exploded at that moment, engulfing the droid in an intense ball of flame. The force of the explosion breached the hull, sending thousands of metal shards into space. The **_Scour_** rocked from the explosion, lights all over the ship began to wink out as Skr'tee screeched in anger until he too was plunged into absolute darkness. The ship came to a full stop and sat there in space, completely dead.   
  
        Skr'tee remained in the pilot chair staring blankly at the endless void before him. He had lost everything in the last few weeks, first his pet nahlee, and then his apprentice (prematurely) and now a very expensive protocol droid and quite possibly the greatest ship he had the privilege to fly. The Amanin stretched his neck, reached behind to hit a switch expecting to feel a deluge of water against his dry skin. Already he could feel the dryness in his skin, as it pulled itself taught over his bones. Even his neck gills were starting to look more prominent. Anger had boiled over and was now spilling down over the brim of rationality.   
        The bounty hunter was ready to lash out, at anything, could feel rage now beneath that thick layer of potent anger. But Skr'tee had not survived this long by giving into such impulses. The Amanin reached down and produced a blaster pistol from beneath the front controls. With his other massive hand the creature produced a short fat cigar. Lighting it with the laser, the Amanin breathed in the fumes and released a sigh. Of Ephant Mon's very own stock this one was. He put the tip to his lips and took a mighty drag on it, the tip of which burned bright red in the center of the surrounding darkness.   
        Ephant Mon had introduced the Amanin to this art and he had not tasted such a fine cigar since the dancing girl had been killed in Jabba's Palace. There just seemed to be little time to enjoy these pleasures these days. And Skr'tee did not know when he would enjoy one again. The coldness of space was already seeping into the cockpit, as the Amanin exhaled a fine plume of smoke. It was time to work now, the bitter cold felt like razors against his lungs. The anger seemed to dissipate into the air with each cloud of smoke. But Skr'tee knew the anger would be there when the time came to need it, instead of wasting it, the bounty hunter hardened it into resolve.   
  
        Several hours later the Amanin slumped down in his pilot seat. For the umpteenth time his fingers crawled over the instruments hoping that the sub-light engines were repaired. From behind the engines roared an uncertain life, they started out strong and then sputtered and then came back on line again. The ship rocked as the engines struggled to keep life, the deck plates rattled beneath Skr'tee and then the engines died with a spark and a thin trail of smoke.   
        'Blast! I was sure I had it this time. At least I have heat and food.' He looked at his drying, flaking skin. Skr'tee ran a thick tongue over his cracked and bleeding lips and grimaced. 'I must get the environment systems on-line or I will not need the hyperdrive.'   
        Before returning to his work, the Amanin turned to the communications console and monitored it closely. The **_Scour_**'s range was weak in its damaged state and before its signal reached a civilized planet, Skr'tee would be dead. 'This settles my problem, then.' He punched in his current coordinates and then recorded a message to Ephant Mon, explaining his problem. With a pause the creature sent the message, this time boosting the satellite's power, he used it all on this one message, knowing it would burn itself out, leaving him with no communications after that.   
        'But what does it matter, if I do not survive?'   
        The Amanin stood up and exited the cockpit, wishing he had another cigar to calm his nerves.   
        'I fear it will be a long while before I can enjoy one of these.' 

* * * * *

  
        Some would say that Nal Hutta would be the perfect homeworld for the Empire that is if the Emperor could withstand the mighty stench of the Hutts that had seeped into every pore of the planet. Nal Hutta wasn't a complete swampy bog, it had also sported several cities complete with numerous levels, much like Coruscant, cities built on top of cities, and like the bottommost layer of the Imperial city, Nal Hutta's lower levels were dark and dangerous. Deep in the bowels of the so-called 'Glorious Jewel' planet, few sentients made their way to the lower city levels, and those that did rarely returned with all of their limbs in tact.   
        The lower levels caught the scraps of the planet; it soaked in its dirt and slime and reveled in it. Sunlight no longer reached down and warmed the bare earth of the planet; the lower levels were cold and uncaring. Crime reigned supreme in the depths, although none of it was organized, or so Isleff the Hutt wanted the planet to believe. The Hutt's palace was located even further below than the planet's lower levels; the palace was rooted below the earth of Nal Hutta itself. There, Isleff felt safest and impenetrable from the other warring Hutts.   
        Isleff the Hutt was laughing so hard, his majordomo thought the Hutt was going to die from it. Tears streaked down his face, tears that mixed in with his drool, causing streaks of green to darken his chin. Isleff was rarely seen on the surface or abroad without being fully covered from head to tail. But here, in his palace he paraded around without clothes, as it was customary for Hutts to do. It was a shock to all that Isleff's skin was the purest ivory (and even more shocking that it had never been reported), his pupils were pink and for a Hutt, Isleff was quite thin and could still move about upon his own violation. In terms of age, Isleff was the oldest known Hutt, although his exact age was unknown, many put him around three thousand years old. His body was wrinkly and loose from the great age. Darker, pink colored spots littered his skin from head to tail.   
         the Amanin majordomo spoke. The Amanin was an average height for his species and bore the usual yellow and green striping of his people. He too walked with a staff, but this one had a half dozen heads attached to it, all of them recent enemies of Isleff. His red eyes flickered in the dim of the audience chamber.   
        Isleff continued his mirth and did not speak until the laughter had fully run its course. The Amanin stood patiently knowing he could possibly take hours before the Hutt found control of himself. "Ho-ho-ho, come now dear Hidda you must learn to appreciate the humor of such things. Imagine the fury of the Imperial Captain that Skr'tee has defeated twice." Isleff added another volley of rumbling laughter to the conversation before continuing again. Absently, the Hutt wiped the green goo from his face and wiped it on the hair of the scantily clad Rodian slave girl before him. "Perhaps this Skr'tee would make a promising addition to my hunters, what say you Hidda?"   
        Hidda was not the creature's given name; Isleff had given him this one. In Huttese it simply meant 'Humorless'. The Amanin bowed respectfully to Isleff, tired of the creature's mirth.    
        Isleff's laughter cut through the Amanin's words once more. "He would make a fine majordomo, at least this creature appears to have a sense of humor!" Isleff wiped the tears away again, his laughter disappearing into chuckles.   
           
        The Hutt listened, as closely as Hutts listened to anyone and made his way out of the chamber. With a tug on the chain, the Rodian dancer followed. "What makes you think he is after me, Hidda? Have you thought of this? Perhaps he is after you."   
        Hidda followed his master into the corridor.    
        "Take what we know of this creature. He has worked for so long for Jabba, successfully mind you, and now that has been taken away. He is lost and out of work. My presence on Tatooine would make him wonder, but if anything he fears me."          Hidda added, trying to keep up with Isleff.          Isleff chuckled at this, his pink eyes showing a devious depth that said more than what the Hutt would ever say about that subject. "This Skr'tee will keep a great distance from me. He does not blame me for Jabba's death, but your appearance at Jabba's palace bothers him, Hidda." Hidda showed surprise at this. "Oh yes, my friend, Skr'tee saw you there and is even now searching for you." The Hutt burst out in a new round of laughter, so loud and deep that it shook sand from the cracks in the ceiling.   
        "That's right, my dear Hidda. Skr'tee thought you were dead didn't he? But now he knows the truth and he is searching. So Hidda, do you believe that this bounty hunter is still after me?"   
        Hidda could not answer as he digested this information. He could not believe it, he had been so careful to not be seen. And what was Skr'tee doing at Jabba's that day? Hidda had his resources as well, and his sources reported that Skr'tee had perished on the sail barge that afternoon along with the rest of Jabba's henchmen.   
        "Come along, my child," Isleff said to the young Rodian. The green-skinned creature stepped into a darkened passage. The albino Hutt followed eagerly, while the Amanin slowly made his way head cast down, mentally chewing on all of the information before him. 

* * * * *

  
        A thin, pale Skr'tee let himself fall into his chair. He had worked on the engines for three days, and for three days he had not felt a single droplet of cool water upon his skin. Not even with long stops at Jabba's did Skr'tee ever feel so parched, so drained of life. A stench more horrible than the worst Imperial dungeon had sunk into the interior of the ship. Skr'tee's body was already rebelling against his drying skin by producing a slick black oil coating his entire skin, this oil responsible for the odor of the ship that bothered even the Amanin's senses.   
        But at least the primary engines were repaired and the **_Scour_** was sailing at a steady pace through space. It could not return to Vinsioth, for the Empire was certainly waiting for the bounty to return there. And there was very little in this stretch of space. Communications were all but extinct on board the **_Scour_** and even now some major systems were spewing forth sparks, threatening to shut down. The first thing Skr'tee had done was to check his water reservoirs located throughout the ships. All of the holding tanks had ruptured, spilling most of the water across the deck. What little water remained had been poisoned from the fires and burning gases. Maridun was too far for his ship to limp to and so relief from the lack of water would have to wait.   
        Skr'tee grew impatient as his ship made its way forward, and there was very little to do except to work on temporary repairs. But all of that could wait. The Amanin had important business to take care of first. Since Ephant Mon would not aide him in his quest, then that did not mean Skr'tee would end his search for Isleff's majordomo. It was no secret that Isleff had dozens of palaces scattered across the galaxy, but what Skr'tee needed to discover was which location the Hutt was currently residing on.   
        Tired to the point of exhaustion, the creature reached back and retrieved his staff. The runt's head swayed eyes sunken shut, skin pale. 'Pity, for this was a fine specimen.'   
        With his great hands, Skr'tee removed the runt's head from the staff and set it upon his knees. He dropped the staff and ran both hands over the runt's face. Black oil smeared across it. Slowly, he brought the runt's head to his great mouth, and like the cannibals of his race, began eating the rotting, decaying flesh of his one-time apprentice. A large piece of flesh tore from the runt's face and hung loose from the Amanin's lips as he chewed, almost thoughtfully on the toughened skin.   
        An image appeared in Skr'tee's mind, one of Jabba. The bloated one was rocking with rage, spewing forth several insults. The Amanin took another piece of the runt. More images surfaced in the creature's mind, at first (as it always was) it was difficult to separate his own memories from that of the one being eaten. Amanins often participated in mutual cannibalism, which allowed both parties to share learning as well as memories. Considering that Amanin's could also rejuvenate lost tissue the mutual cannibalism was hardly ever dangerous. And so the creature continued his meal until the runt's entire head had been digested. When the meal was done, Skr'tee licked his fingers with a red tongue and smacked his lips. Indeed it had been quite some time since he had tasted such succulence.   
        Hundreds of images exploded in Skr'tee's mind, flashing from the runts early years, to his brief apprentice years. There were thousands of images to sort out, occasionally a pale Hutt would appear but no other Amanins. Skr'tee stood shakily on two feet and stood bent over, one hand keeping his balance against a bulkhead. He moved through the corridors to his sleeping quarters to meditate and rest. Only then could he gleam any important information if there was any to be had. He did not swing from the overhead pipes, but stumbled awkwardly on his feet.   
        'I am tired, too tired. Isleff must not be far or this hunt shall fail. I must not fail.' 

  
        "Hidda!" Isleff called out in a mighty bellow. Hidda was hosting a conference communication with several of the major crime lords of the lower levels of Nal Hutta. Isleff remained in the shadows, ever careful of keeping his identity secret.   
        Hidda raised a hand, a hand that was the power of Isleff himself, silencing the heated discussion being broadcast.  The monitors went dark and Hidda turned to his master.    
        The ancient Hutt swiveled his head and peered at the Amanin greedily. Isleff slid into the room, and picked up Hidda's staff.   
        Gingerly the Amanin took the staff in his hand.   
        "There is a bounty as of yet unclaimed, Hidda. These twelve," Isleff waved his hand in the general direction of the darkened monitors, "have failed me numerous times, as well as the Empire. So once again I turn to you, Hidda. You will leave immediately."   
        Hidda looked alarmed, his skin secreting an oily chemical to maintain the consistency of moisture along his body. He had learned long ago not to question Isleff.    
        Isleff patted the Amanin on the lower back (Hidda towered over the Hutt); "The usual information awaits you in the usual manner. You need only to chose a ship of your liking and return once the bounty is collected." The Hutt ushered the Amanin to the rear chamber door there he paused and spoke softly.   
        "And when you return, you shall have all twelve heads that sit in on this meeting."   
  
        As Skr'tee climbed back into the cockpit of the **_Scour_**, he was greeted by the glowing red of a large sun in the distance. The cockpit turned red in response and Skr'tee let out a long sigh. His red eyes gleamed at the large burning circle in the distance, and with its long red rays, it brought hope like a new dawn. The runts memories had revealed that Isleff had intended to remain on Nal Hutta for the next few weeks, overseeing the usual deals the Hutt had his hands in.   
        Although the trip to the Hutt homeworld would take five days if his repairs kept, it was the best possible destination. Skr'tee also kept several hideouts across the galaxy, not as grand or magnificent as a Hutt's, but adequate. And more importantly, Skr'tee's Nal Hutta hideout had a vast reservoir he could bath in. He could rearm himself for the assault on Isleff's palace, and perhaps meet up with some old contacts. Excited by this new development, Skr'tee set in a new course, one that would take him directly to Nal Hutta. With a new breath of inspiration, the Amanin dangerously increased the power to the engines knowing he must get there soon. Five days was a long time to wait.   
        And he did not know if he would survive without water for that long.   
        The red sun quickly sank out of the ship's viewscreens submerging the ship with darkness, except for the blinking of lights from the operating systems.   
  
        The **_Scour_** entered Hutt space nearly twelve hours ahead of schedule. The ship sailed silently not broadcasting any signals, nor running with any outside lights. It sailed, nearly blind into the crowded space. It kept a straight course, as straight that was possible with the course systems showing dramatic drifts. The freighter moved into the occupied space lanes, several ships raced by the freighter, firing several warning shots to make the freighter move. The **_Scour_** moved only quicker than the capital ships that drifted with some unknown purpose.   
        As the freighter drifted deeper into Hutt space, the ship fired a few low powered laser blasts at any ships that happened to get in the way of its flight path. A Corellian freighter called the **_Shadow_** appeared directly in front of the **_Scour_**. The pilot of the **_Shadow_** felt his ship rock as its shields were hit two, three and then four times by harmless blasts. The pilot responded by slowing his ship down and swerving left to right to keep the **_Scour_** directly behind it.   
        Skr'tee felt his ship shudder suddenly and the creature opened his eyes for the first time in days. He felt as though weights had attached themselves to his eyelids and the amount of energy it took to open them, nearly spent his remaining energy. The **_Scour_** had run into the rear of the freighter causing the creature to stir from his meditation. With a curse, the Amanin relinquished the controls of the ship, fighting exhaustion and dehydration every step of the way. He had to reach Nal Hutta; any delay could mean his death. And there the planet lay only minutes away. Without thinking of the consequences Skr'tee powered up the ship's laser canons to full. He watched silently as the **_Shadow_** slowed his ship down. With a curse, Skr'tee opened fire.   
        Flashes of red lanced out, catching the bow of the **_Shadow_** full on. The pilot cursed and intensified his rear shields. Before the **_Scour_** could fire another blast, the Corellian freighter peeled away from its current position, allowing for the battered freighter to pass. Skr'tee was about to thank the gods when the ship lurched forward with violence. The pilot of the **_Shadow_** had come up behind and was firing a rapid succession of laser blasts into the ships remaining engines. The cockpit exploded into a shower of sparks as every remaining onboard system shorted out from the latest attack. The remaining engines erupted into a hot flash of white, creating another furious fire across the hindquarter of the ship.   
        Skr'tee's starship suddenly dropped from the major space lanes and began to spiral out of control. The **_Shadow_** followed closely behind, still firing a salvo of blasts, rocking the sinking ship. Not until the **_Scour_** had finally been caught by Nal Hutta's gravitational pull, did the Corellian stop firing and watch as the ship screeched toward the atmosphere, never knowing which ship he had destroyed and its legendary owner. The **_Scour_** shook violently as it hit the atmosphere of Nal Hutta; the entire ship was breaking apart, the hull burned red from reentry. Skr'tee did not even have the strength to open his mouth and scream.   
        The ship plummeted like a stone.   
        The bounty hunter counted off the seconds aloud, and when he judged he had reached the breathable atmosphere, Skr'tee pounded his giant fist on the escape pod release. With the last of his energy spent, the hunter let his head fall face first onto the computer console in front of him and that was the last thing he remembered for a very long time....   
        A myriad of sounds, smells, and sights thrashed at the Amanin when he regained consciousness. He awakened to what sounded like loud grunting and squealing. The odor of the place smelt of rancid Gamorrean, and Skr'tee could think of no odor more pungent nor disgusting. He had hunted many Gamorreans, but never did Skr'tee keep a head for his staff.   
        The Amanin found himself lying in the tiniest puddle of water, his body badly bruised and beaten probably beyond recognition. He was not in the escape pod, nor near the crash sight of the doomed freighter. Skr'tee was lying beneath a tall thick and gnarled tree. The tree had once stood for centuries, providing life for hundreds of creatures through shelter and food. But today it stood like a rotten tooth, withered and black, dying but not quite dead. Skr'tee stood on shaking legs, resting a large palm on the side of the tree. He had known this tree well for had he not raised it from a sapling so many years ago? The smells of the area were familiar to him, although the smells were different somehow, like life gone bad.   
        'I am home. But how did I arrive here?'   
        He shook his head and nearly tumbled over from the vertigo. His last memories left him spiraling toward the planet surface. Had he made his way here in a daze, fuelled by a fierce determination to live? Or was it something entirely different?   
        His eyes finally focused on the surroundings, the Amanin's Nal Hutta lair was hidden inside a warehouse, which was fully equipped with bogs and rivers of water from his homeworld. Plants and animals had also been transported here to create a complete and fully functional ecosystem. It had been nearly five years since his last return here, and it was clear that it could no longer maintain a healthy ecosystem without a caretaker. Much of the ecosystem was lost to disease; the waters were stagnant and poisonous now, perfumed by a sour smell of death.   
        The ceiling, which was basically a giant viewscreen which normally displayed the gray skies of Maridun was a black sheet of cracked glass, sparking and squealing, which were the sounds Skr'tee had awakened to.   
        Skr'tee was weak and his body felt as though his skin was burning from acid; his bones ached. He dropped to the ground again and lapped at the puddle of water; his throat rejected the stale liquid. Although the water was dirty, it was drinkable. He had to force it down, despite the throat's pained cries. Skr'tee needed water. He lapped at the water again, sneering at the awful taste of the liquid. His throat rebelled, but this time his will was stronger and the water went down, throat fighting every millimeter of the way. When it was down, and the creature was certain he was not going to throw it up, Skr'tee leaned back against the tree with a deep sigh.   
        The bounty hunter looked down at his left arm, it lay useless to one side crushed and mashed into a yellow and green pulp. Three fingers were missing; they weren't severed, but crushed in the crash. The appendage was crooked and bent at every angle and was completely useless to the hunter. With his good hand, he clasped the wrist of the injured arm and began tugging at it.   
        The Amanin stifled a scream as a flash of white-hot pain exploded at the socket of his left shoulder. When the arm finally ripped from the socket, the hunter responded with a few oily black tears from his blood-red eyes. The bodiless arm began twitching, the remaining finger spasmed with a life of its own.   
        Already strength was returning to the bounty hunter, his wounds starting to heal. After some much needed rest, he would explore the remains of his home, which spanned several city blocks, small compared to many of the warehouses on the planet, but large enough for one unfamiliar with the contained ecosystem to become lost. There were once nahlee roaming across the plains of this place, now they too were probably dead, but would at least offer some food. But until then, Skr'tee needed rest.   
  
        It was during the part of early morning where traffic on the streets of Nal Hutta had tapered off into almost nothingness. A time where the night is silent, as if waiting with held breath for the sudden hustle and bustle of a new business day, when Skr'tee made his way out of his home. On Nal Hutta, every day was a business day. Every muscle and bone still ached from recent events, but that did not stop Skr'tee. He walked with a stride of confidence wearing a tattered brown cloak that concealed his missing appendage quite well. The few remaining scavengers of the night gave the creature wide birth as he marched down a side street, making his way to a familiar cantina he knew that served Amanin cuisine.   
        The interior was very dim, and coupled with the bright flashing lights of the cantina's exterior allowed everyone inside to see newcomers before they themselves could see. This mattered little to Skr'tee since his vision was not based upon the same as humans. Several heads turned to the entranceway and then darted back when they recognized the Amanin. Skr'tee stood in the entranceway, meeting the gaze of each person before motioning to the bartender to make room for a table.   
        Skr'tee nearly collapsed onto the bench located at the furthest and darkest corner of the bar. He sighed, as he smelled the myriad of smells throughout the bar. An odor that made most people faint, an odor that Skr'tee had not sensed for far too long. The human bartender had disappeared into the back kitchen, no doubt to prepare the Amanin's usual order. After several minutes, a serving unit arrived with Skr'tee's usual drink.   
        He watched in his dark corner, sipping on ale from time to time, waiting for his meal.   
        "Isleff is searching for you." A voice came from nearby. A cloaked creature stepped from the shadows and stood before the bounty hunter, blocking his view of the bar.   
           
        The mysterious creature sighed inwardly, 'Yes, he's in a foul mood, but not enough of one to be lethal.' The stranger pulled up a chair and sat against the wall to the creature's right. It was a Bith who spoke very poor basic. "I have information for sale. Information about Isleff."   
        The Amanin merely glared his crimson eyes at the creature. He did not purchase information. Allowing informants to live was payment enough.   
        After several seconds of awkward silence, the Bith's eyes darted around the cantina; he finally began to speak. He thought about getting up and leaving, but it was too late for that now. The Bith had gambled on getting money from the bounty hunter, and now that it was clear that wasn't going to happen, it was clear that if the Bith wanted to live, he would have to give up his information. "Very well then, I can see you're in a hurry, Gergun will make this fast. The Unseen One has sent his many minions to every hovel and brothel." Gergun leaned closer, speaking in a cautious whisper. "The word is out on you friend, and the word is no good. The Hutt wants you dead."   
         It took a long gulp of his ale and then signaled to the serving droid for another.   
        "No, no, my dear hunter, that's what the word is. That's not information." The Bith leaned in even closer, his large bulbous head, poked through the hooded cloak. His voice dropped further. "The Hutt's majordomo was in here earlier, I saw him with my own eyes, this is big, Gergun has heard much. It's not the Hutt that is searching for you at all."   
        This piqued Skr'tee's interest, although his faced gave nothing away. His eyes did not fall on the Bith once during the conversation, but continued to make their rounds around the bar. He noted that the human barkeeper was speaking into a comlink. His meal was taking far too long to prepare. Once this creature was finished speaking, Skr'tee would check on it.    
        "It's the 'domo, he's seeking you." A yellow hand shot up into the air from the Bith's cloak, motioning for the Amanin to not interrupt. "I don't know why bounty hunter, but I can find out."   
        Skr'tee nodded. 


	3. Default Chapter Title

STAR WARS

THE TALE OF THE HEAD HUNTER

PART II (CONTINUED)

HOUNDED

by

Doug Mac Donald

  
        **_(Author's Note: For some reason, I kept running out of memory so I couldn't convert this into one file. So if you haven't read the first file, don't read any further!)_**   
  
  
        The bartender was on the comlink again, his face turning an ugly human red. The human hung up again and then motioned to the serving droid.   
        Returning his attention to Gergun,  Skr'tee asked.   
        "Nobody knows what Isleff wants. He wants you, but..." the serving droid wheeled its way to the table, interrupting the conversation. The Bith reflexively shrank back into the darkness.   
        The droid set another tankard of ale down and spoke to the Amanin in his language.  With that the droid turned and returned to its duties. It was several minutes before the Bith leaned back into the light to continue his message.)   
        "Isleff wants you, that's clear, but there's talk, if you know where to listen, that he wants your skills. Isleff is in desperate need of good bounty hunters."   
        A human appeared from the kitchen and whispered something to the bartender. The bartender nodded and disappeared into the back. Skr'tee lashed out suddenly, his left hand had caught the Bith and pulled the creature close to be heard. Gergun squealed and tried to struggle free, but the Amanin's fingers were too powerful, too big.    
        "He's called Hidda!" the Bith screeched. He felt pressure upon his cranium now, the cantina was growing impossibly darker, and spots had appeared all over the Amanin's body. "He's Amanish! That's all I know! Please don't kill me!"   
        'So, I did see another Amanin with Isleff. Hidda is a Hutt name though.'   
        The door to the kitchen swung open, the serving droid made his way through with a platter full of meat followed by another shorter squat droid, carrying a tub of water. The Bith's hands wrapped themselves around Skr'tee's wrists, they felt like pistons. Gergun gave a final whimpering screech before Skr'tee crushed his head completely in his hands. The Bith fell back into his chair, hood deflating.   
        A few curious glances were thrown to the back of the bar in their direction, but all they saw was a cloaked figure seemingly sleeping across from the bounty hunter.   
         the droid asked in near perfect Amanish. It put the platter of meat down in front of Skr'tee while the smaller droid bumped the tub of water against the table, spilling some of it across the tabletop.   
        Skr'tee looked over at the slumped form of the Bith.    
        The Amanin watched as the two droids left. His left arm accidentally touched the small puddle of water the droid had spilt; a shiver suddenly ran up and down the creature's body, his neck gills began puckering greedily. His skin had tasted the succulent exotic waters of Maridun. Skr'tee ignored the food and picked the heavy metal tub to his lips and drank greedily. Fresh, clean water splashed from his mouth and poured down the sides of his neck. None of it went to waste as his dry cracked skin sucked in the excess. He left a few inches behind to wash down the meat, hoping that the creature had been dead long enough so that no memory residue was left behind.   
        Skr'tee picked at the food searching for a tasty morsel. The water had been a miracle, and so he was curious to see if the food was nahlee, or Amanin. The bounty hunter found a snout, but did not immediately recognize it. The gray meat was still fresh, and not cooked. As he touched the meat, his skin immediately registered a foreign chemical that was used by Amanin cooks that inhibited the memory residue long enough for the meal to be completed without interruption. Clearly the cook knew something of Amanin gourmet.   
        Hungry, Skr'tee took a bite.   
        An insane, angry ululation rocked the stone walls of the cantina. The Amanin had stumbled out of the cantina and found himself in a dark alleyway. He threw back his head and rumbled another vibrating scream that shook the walkway. Skr'tee screamed and screamed and screamed.   
        It was his only defense against the dark images that were seeping into his mind. The creature he had eaten (leaving not a single scrap) was revealing its many, many secrets to the Amanin. Secrets such as where to find hidden guns and weapons scattered across the galaxy; the life of a mercenary; hundreds of images of Jabba the Hutt; images of Skr'tee himself; images of a great temple dedicated to spiritual pursuits; images of large faces on short stalky legs.   
        Ephant Mon's memories.   
        The unending screaming was Skr'tee's nearest form of mourning at the discovery of the meal he had just consumed. Isleff had hunted down Ephant Mon and butchered him, and then served him up as a meal. The memories of the Chevin continued to assault the bounty hunter as he made his way down the alley, turning here and there. Trying desperately to outrun the memories. He could hear the excited shouts of Isleff's henchmen as they scattered out of the bar and through the streets searching for the bounty hunter.   
        Hearing the running footsteps of the pursuers, the Amanin took hold of a railing above and began scaling the outer wall of a building, losing himself into the night. On top of the building, he stared down at the alley before him. Several creatures were running about, knocking over dumpsters, searching for the escaped hunter.   
        All but one.   
        There was only one figure that was searching the skyline, looking skyward rather than ahead, and he was taller than the rest - Isleff's majordomo. Hidda.   
        Skr'tee was still seething with rage. 'This Hidda could have had taken me in the bar. But instead Hidda mocks me with homeworld water, followed by the flesh of a friend! He plays the game in much the same way Isleff plays. But Skr'tee has played more intricate games than this one.'   
        The Amanin stood on the ledge of the building, showing himself to the majordomo. Hidda stopped in his tracks. He was about to shout an order to his men when Skr'tee suddenly disappeared into the shadows and was gone. 

- TO BE CONCLUDED -


	4. Default Chapter Title

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

STAR WARS

THE TALE OF THE HEAD HUNTER

PART III

THE HUNTER'S LAIR

** **

by

Doug Mac Donald

  
        A vast barge sailed through the Nal Hutta system, an orange-red rusted color of a ship with markings defining it as a cargo hauler. It traveled silently, speedily as though the shipment could not wait any further. It passed through the clutter of starships, never changing its steady course, but allowing those in its way to move instead, moving through the clutter like a memory buried from the past. The barge was allowed through Nal Hutta's outer defenses with surprising ease, and far too easy for it to be regular freighter.   
        The cargo of the **_Filthy Mire_** was indeed as precious as it was secretive. Not even the captain, nor his crew knew what it really carried, other than a good sized sail barge, it was assumed that it was a present for a Hutt. But resting noisily inside of the barge was Isleff the Hutt, waiting for his barge to be delivered. It was ever imperative to the Hutt that he keep his identity a secret. To get from place to place and not cause a lot of attention, Isleff would use this way occasionally to get around, hidden in a cargo ship, sometimes even a dungeon ship if it suited his purposes.   
        The **_Filthy Mire_** made its descent into the 'Beautiful Jewel's' atmosphere like a shark cutting through the water toward its prey. Isleff continued to sleep, despite the howling of the winds and the constant violent rocking of the ship as the friction of the ship's descent increased.   
  
        There was but one place on all of Nal Hutta that Skr'tee could hope to survive, and that was his home. Through the guise of night the creature made his way back, with no way of knowing if anyone had been inside since all of the motion detectors had been offline for months. The lights did not come on as he was accustomed to, working to his advantage this time. Quickly Skr'tee made his way to the decaying tree he had awakened beneath so many hours ago. Skr'tee seemed to make a quick search, and then seemingly satisfied left the area, pushing deeper into the forests.   
        Skr'tee found a small lake in the north end of the warehouse and slipped into it. A terrible rumble emitted from his mouth as he sunk into the mire.   
        'Such filth, it is no wonder all of the animals have died out, this water is poison to my skin. And thick too.'   
        The water was dark and indeed thick, like swimming through mud, but the bounty hunter did not seem to care, he knew these waters well. Skr'tee dove deeper and found a small tunnel. At the far end the water led to a small cave buried beneath the soil. He could not climb out of the stagnant mire fast enough. Standing upon the banks of the underwater cavern, motion detectors that were still in operation suddenly sparked to life, flooding the cave with an uncertain flickering light. A dozen wompbats screeched and took to the air. The lights revealed the underground system network that controlled all of the above ground systems. Skr'tee made his way to the main computer terminal and slowly began to work.   
        'But what of this enemy of mine? I know the face well, yet it can not be! That enemy is dead, I know for I was there....'   
  
        ...it was a time, before Skr'tee even had a name for names were not needed on Maridun. A headhunter's entire life was their name and was easily recognized through eating a fraction of one's skin. Memories were exchanged and so the need for names was unnecessary. It was a time when Skr'tee was considered the most successful of headhunters. This creature had traveled the globe and had heads of every known species of Maridun.   
        It was a time when this creature had no desire to leave the planet, to become a galaxy wide hunter. No desire to be paid for his services. What this creature did not know was that he had been watched for many months now, watched by agents of those who paid well for such skills.   
        "You there, creature!"   
        The Amanin turned with great speed at the voice of the Gran that had suddenly appeared from the shadows.    
        The three-eyed Gran had drawn a blaster set to kill and seemed to fumble for a moment. In his left hand he held a translator and it took the creature several seconds to translate the Amanin's language. "Damn thing takes so...here it is." The normally sand-colored skin of the Gran quickly turned pale. His three eyes looked the towering Amanin up and down. He suddenly felt very small and his voice conveyed that. "You knew I was following you?"   
        The translator repeated the Gran's voice back to the Amanin.  The Amanin gently shook his staff, motioning to the empty stake on the top. The staff was adorned with several small creatures' heads.   
        "Jabba won't be disappointed with you. I am Krue Pleece and I work for the renowned... businesshutt the mighty Jabba." Krue waited and saw that the Amanin did not recognize the name. "My employer is seeking people with special talents, talents that you have. Jabba has authorized me to give you a generous offer. I'm gonna have to change this offer though, I don't think a cache of lumni spice and a generous amount of credits will mean much to you."   
        The Amanin nodded and turned from the Gran. Within seconds he was already out of Krue's vision. The Gran followed quickly. "Damn. We are also prepared to offer you the heads of any creature you chose from Jabba's own pens!"   
        _   
        "Damn. Then you can have that, whatever you want. Just name your price! Jabba is wealthy, he can give you anything!" He was losing this deal, too quickly. Jabba was not going to like this.   
        __   
        Krue Pleece stopped in his tracks as though he had been slapped. "You...you will?"   
           
        The laughter of a Gran is most unpleasant and Krue's was no exception. "It doesn't work that way headhunter. This is a deal that you can't refuse. Jabba won't accept that. And there is very little room to negotiate. You can't try a Hutt's patience like this. You'll be lucky if you get the original offer out of this. Now be sensible. You may be quick, and a great hunter, but do you think you can outrun a blaster?"   
        The Amanin's answer was simple. Skr'tee leapt to a tree and swung away from branch to branch, all in less time it took the Gran to find the trigger.   
        "Damn."   
  
        A metallic wailing howl filled the night sky, a terrible hot breath washed over the forest; the driest, yellow leaves caught fire from the flames of the ship's thrusters. It was a simple armored shuttle that landed in a clearing, while parts of the forest around it blazed in an orange glow. The Amanin watched (and felt the heat of the ship) as the hatch opened up like the maw of some unimagined beast, spewing forth a fattened meal that was Jabba the Hutt.   
        The slug-like creature bellowed out orders to his unseen crew. Suddenly various humans were scrambling around to obey the crimelord's orders. The perimeter was quickly locked down and surrounded by a dozen beings, mostly humanoids and some Rodians. The Gran was not in sight. "One of my people tell me that you are quite the hunter." Jabba slithered forward; the Amanin matched the Hutt's stride and towered over him.   
        __   
        "Ah-ha-ha. Now, now, hunter, do you believe that you are capable of such a feat? I don't think so. Now, as to my offer, I am also told that you have refused me. Is this true?"   
           
        "I am not accustomed to being refused, hunter." The Hutt turned to his men and gave an order in Huttese that the portable translator did not translate.   
        "This is what I'm accustomed to..."   
        A pale blue bolt lanced out across the clearing, jabbing the Amanin on the side felling him in an instant. Normally, such a blast would knock any creature into unconsciousness, but the Amanin struggled on. He reached out pitifully at Jabba, his mighty hand grabbing a handful of blubber, but before he could do anything a sharp pain raced across the creature's backside.   
        The twelve bodyguards surrounded the Amanin each drawing a vibroblade and began slashing at the creature's body. The Amanin screeched in terror, but not even the white-hot pain could blacken his mind into oblivion.   
        "I have read several studies on your race, headhunter. Your unique ability to regenerate limbs is not known throughout the galaxy. But it is known to me."   
        A leg was cut off, while another of Jabba's guards hacked off the foot. One of the arms was nearly pulled off too. "But there are several theories as untested as of yet that if you were to be cut in half, say," the other leg was now removed, the Amanin's protests drowned out the Hutt, "the other would regrow as a separate individual. It's time to put this theory to rest."   
        The Amanin felt his head removed next. He watched helplessly as one of the Rodians picked up his still moving arm and brought it to the shuttle. The headhunter lay there, staring up into the sky, watching the ship slowly rotate, its forward batteries charged. The last thought the Amanin had was the clear whine of lasers tearing into the rest of his body, incinerating every last bit of flesh.   
  
        ...Skr'tee stretched his slowly growing arm, only an eighth of its usual length, but it could be used now. He looked at his good hand and thought of the many bounties he brought in for Jabba with these hands. Hundreds upon hundreds.   
        'I was but an arm when Jabba had taken me. Months of oblivion it was until I had regained consciousness and memories of the past. And many more months until I had regrown into completeness. I was treated well; had been a fool to not want to leave world. The Hutt's galaxy offered far more creatures, far more challenges.   
        'Yes, I recognize my enemy. My enemy is my once true self. The self that Jabba mutilated and then destroyed. Hunter must have survived blast, somehow. But why is my old self hunting me?' _

* * * * *

  
        Isleff's barge hissed and released various gases into the atmosphere. The cool air scratched at the lungs of those gathered beneath the barge's great bulk. Even Isleff looked cold.   
        "How goes the hunt?" The Hutt began his usual jocularity all but absent. Hidda stood, covered in a dark soiled cloak, head searching to the left and then to the right. A few trackers stood a short distance away, anxious to complete their task.   
           
        Small pudgy hands reached out from beneath Isleff's cloak, which then brought the hood tighter to his chin. The Hutt hated being cold, and was in a foul mood. "Skr'tee escaped." It was not a question. His other hand shot out and caught the Amanin by the collar, pulling him close to his face. Isleff licked his lips. "I have grown weary of this game, Hidda. It ends here, tonight. I will know if you will continue to serve me at the end of this night, or Skr'tee." Isleff was about to release Hidda when the Amanin was suddenly jerked even closer to those thick pinkish lips. "Or neither of you." The hand threw the majordomo to the ground.   
        Hidda found himself searching for his cloak that had fallen off. Picking himself up he draped the cloak over his back. _   
        But Isleff had already returned to the barge.   
        'Very well, My Lord,' he mocked, 'This part will all end tonight. But after that, you shall follow. Enjoy your last night on your homeworld, slime. For it will be your last.'   
        Hidda turned to the lead tracker, a two legged, one-meter tall creature that used senses well beyond human comprehension.    
        "Close, close." The tracker spat in a scratchy voice, a voice that was unaccustomed to speaking long sentences.   
           
        "Yes, yes." The tiny creatures spun around and were gone.   
        'Within the hour,' the Amanin's mocking turned to himself. 'They have been searching an entire day and night, and they continue to give me the same answer. Close. Close. They do not know what close means. Never had I been so close and not know it when Isleff inspected Jabba's Palace. Reports stated that all perished, including Skr'tee. I...needed to be sure. I needed to see the body myself. And then to find out that Skr'tee was not dead, and watching us. That was close. Close.   
        'Jabba, the one responsible for all of this. At least his justice came for him. I can still remember the Gran, and the torture. Yes even the torture...'   
  
        ...Hidda struggled against the effects of the paralysis. Even Jabba looked surprised when he grabbed a fistful of flesh. He could smell the sweat of the bodyguards, and the sweat of the Hutt, a thick oppressive odor like that of Maridun's worst bogs. When the first blade touched his skin, Hidda screeched in pain, but still he could not move. Incredibly, although his muscles would not obey his commands, the creature could feel every decapitation with mind-numbing clarity.   
        Jabba was speaking about Amanin biology, and of the methods he was 'accustomed' to, but Hidda was not listening. He was dying. One of the guards, a Rodian used his foot to turn Hidda over, onto his back. The headhunter stared at the black sky, praying for oblivion to take him. An altogether new sensation overtook him, a feeling that would never abate. Hidda could feel the tiny kernel-like teeth of the Rodian against his flesh. The Rodian had cut off his arm and then bit off one of Hidda's fingers. And although unattached, his arm's memories were his own.   
        The world began to spin as he felt a phantom pain of teeth mashing his own skin; the algae-smell of the Rodians mouth became thick in his senses. Hidda could taste the saliva as it worked to break down the meat, could taste the meat of several other animals this creature had recently eaten. While Hidda squirmed on the ground, another guard hacking away at his neck, he could feel himself slipping down the throat of the Rodian, into the darkness of the esophagus, could feel the muscles of the throat, working the morsel down into the gullet...   
  
        'As black and as filthy as this night. But I did not die there, Jabba may have been a successful crimelord, but he did not always hire competent help.' The blast from the ship that was meant to destroy Hidda had actually blown a large bit across the clearing. A bit large enough to grow again. 'It took years to regrow to maturity, and in that time, no one knew that I lived, not even that abomination Skr'tee. That creature relished in my abilities, and would not have been a success without my skill. Skr'tee is no longer me. Jabba stole him and molded him into a mockery of all headhunters. That creature isn't even a true Amanin; he is an embarrassment to what I was. '   
        Hidda had eventually found Isleff the Hutt and began working for him, scheming to bring about Jabba's destruction, as well as Skr'tee's. But Isleff was demanding and time was scarce for Hidda to conduct his search. It did not take long to learn that one does not refuse a Hutt (he had already been killed by one for that same reason), and when Isleff promoted him to majordomo, there was no choice to be made. But now that Isleff sought the bounty hunter, Hidda now had the full resources of a wealthy criminal empire behind him.   
        'But it still comes down to this. Skr'tee has been found, but we have been unable to capture him on the world were no one is your friend, and everyone is your enemy. No one has ever entered Skr'tee's home and we cannot search every hole on this accursed planet. Perhaps after a swim, my mind will have relaxed enough so I can resume the search.'   
        The smallest of the tracker pack scurried out of the shadows at that moment, clearly excited.   
           
        "Come. Come." The creature jumped excitedly.   
           
        "Come." _

* * * * *

  
        Hidda stood impatiently as the pig guard took its axe to the doors that led to the warehouse that presumably held Skr'tee. The axe shattered after making a small dent in the reinforced steel. The trackers were restless and jumped around incessantly.   
           
        The Gamorrean squealed as it rammed its full body against the door. It made a deeper impression this time and continued to bash against it until finally, the door gave way.   
        Hidda snapped his long fingers, signaling for the group of pig guards to storm into the warehouse. As they did so, Hidda followed in behind, still covered by his dark cloak.    
        It could see the layout of the place quite well, even in the darkness, and it was immediately clear to his eyes that this was truly the home of an Amanin. Trees from his homeworld were scattered throughout the place, complete with springs and a small river.   
        "Close! Close!"   
        Hidda allowed himself a smirk.    
        The trackers jumped excitedly and then disappeared down the alleyway.   
        The majordomo had little faith in the Gamorreans, and so slipped away into the darkness to aid in the search. Hidda leapt to the trees swinging from branch to branch.   
        The squeal of a pig guard alerted his attention, and Hidda made his way to the commotion. When he arrived, one of the green skinned creatures had fallen into a mire, and was entangled in a mesh of waterweed. It grunted and pleaded for help in its panicked state.   
           
        The guard, feeling the waters rising to its mouth thrashed all the more, succeeding in tangling himself further, the waterweed pulled the creature down into the depths. Another cry echoed across the plains, and Hidda went chasing after it. While he had been distracted here, Skr'tee must have attacked the other guards.   
         The two guards had tripped a booby-trap, and found themselves impaled on what looked to be several spines that were hidden in a ten foot deep pit. More screeching could be heard, and then a deadly silence ensued. A shadow dropped from the ceiling and knocked Hidda to the ground. The Amanin's staff fell into the pit out of reach.   
         Skr'tee motioned to the dead guards.   
           
        Skr'tee lunged at the fallen Amanin, and wrapped his good hand around the creatures fat neck. He snapped at its neck with sharp fangs. Hidda pushed his attacker away. Skr'tee went rolling away, cursing and muttering.   
           
        Hidda stood to his full height, throwing off his cloak, arms locked at his side, ready to pounce.    
        Hidda leapt into the air, and came down upon Skr'tee. Lifting Skr'tee above his head, Hidda flung him several meters away. Skr'tee rolled along the ground, bashing his head off of the giant dead tree, and was about to pick himself up when Hidda attacked again. This time, he bit at Skr'tee, tearing away a strip of flesh off of his growing arm. The regeneration process left the new limb highly sensitive to all senses, touch, smell and pain. Skr'tee howled and fell to the ground. Hidda jumped and landed on Skr'tee's midsection, forcing the breath out of his lungs. Hidda quickly wrapped his hands around Skr'tee's head and began to squeeze.   
           
        Skr'tee could only grasp with his good arm, which was not strong enough. The growing one, was covered with blood, and thrashed useless in the air. He closed his eyes, fighting back the pain and the beckoning call of unconsciousness. Minutes seem to pass when Skr'tee suddenly felt the tightness around his neck loose their grip, and the pressure from his chest disappear completely. His red eyes opened and saw that Hidda had fallen backwards and was wrestling with something.   
        Skr'tee stood and tore a pointed branch from the dead tree and turned to the Amanin. Hidda was rolling on the ground; a large yellow hand that was not attached to the Amanin was choking the life out of him. The hand had belonged to Skr'tee and was actually starting to heal and grow again where the bounty hunter had left it. Skr'tee stumbled over to the Amanin, brandishing a branch from the dead tree.   
         Skr'tee raised the branch above his head and thrust it down. Hidda wriggled and screamed madly, unable to lift himself from the ground, now that he was skewered to it. Skr'tee's arm continued to choke the creature. Squatting, Skr'tee watched hungrily as the creature died.  But Hidda was dead.   
        With a red fanged smile, Skr'tee lifted Hidda's arm and began eating it.   
        Immediately the Amanin's most recent memories came to the bounty hunter's mind.   
        Satisfied, Skr'tee walked away from the Amanin, leaving his arm as well. The bounty hunter picked up the majordomo's cloak and then returned to the lake and swam to the control center where the rest of his plan lay waiting.   
        The explosion could be seen miles away, it brightened the brown night sky with an eerie orange glow. The entire warehouse had been laced with explosives that the Amanin had set off, destroying his entire home along with Hidda, ensuring that that creature would not survive as he had done before. Skr'tee pulled the cloak tightly around his body and walked away from the burning mess that he once called home. Several of the surrounding places had also caught fire, more explosions thumped into the night. Eventually, the fire would grow and overcome the cantina he had visited and was betrayed in.   
        An added bonus.   
        Keeping to the shadows, which increasingly became difficult with the glowing blaze behind it, Skr'tee quickly made his way along the streets of Nal Hutta. 'Ah, Isleff's barge,' Skr'tee sighed, as several images from his last meal flashed across his face.   
        'Prepare yourself. Your time is nearing an end.' 

* * * * *

  
        "It would appear that I have my answer." Isleff spoke to the Rodian dancer before him. The Hutt's mood was fowl and the Rodian slave had already felt his anger. Her back ached from the blow Isleff dealt her with his tail, but she stood straight, trying to let the pain and hurt show. "Move the barge away from this sector with all haste," he spoke into a comlink. "I want to be at the docking bay within the hour! Well now, I suppose I should seriously begin searching for a new aide." Isleff's massive pink eyes fell upon the Rodian slave.   
        "How would you serve me, little one?"   
        Immediately he blurted out in a laugh that shook his belly to the very core. The dancer did not react. After wiping away his tears he called for his guards. "You bore me, woman. Guards! Take her away!" Isleff released the chain, and before the Rodian could think of fleeing, she was being escorted away.   
        "Torture her first! Don't just kill her outright. I want to hear her screams for the ride home. When we reach the docking bay...kill her." The sail barge lurched forward as the rear repulsors ignited, pushing the transport forward. Isleff sighed once more wishing things had ended differently.   
        He could not be certain that Skr'tee had perished in the explosion, but knowing Hidda and his success over the years, it was difficult to doubt it. And Hidda was loyal if nothing else. Hidda had a personal vendetta against Skr'tee as well, and would if given no other choice, perish to know that Skr'tee was deceased as well.   
        Isleff picked up a datapad searching for a suitable replacement.   
  
        The wind had picked up, sending a chill through Skr'tee's bruised body. He would be relieved when this night was done, and he could find passage back to Maridun where he would find the deepest, coolest lake he knew to soak in. But until then, he had a bounty to collect.   
        Skr'tee stood at the entrance to the alley, staring at the sail barge that was disappearing into the distance, the very same barge he had taken from Hidda's memories. At the sound of an approaching speederbike, Skr'tee turned to see a Corellian race down the street, probably the first of many scavengers that would visit the warzone. As the Corellian approached, the Amanin slipped into the shadows. The whine increased and with perfect timing, the bounty hunter stuck his good arm out, catching the Corellian across the neck. With unimaginable speed, Skr'tee's shorter arm lanced out at the same time and hit the bike's deceleration button. The man fell to the ground in a heap, while the speederbike raced away.   
        Using his one good arm and both legs, Skr'tee raced down the street, swinging from overhangs and signs, lumbering on his short feet when needed until he caught up to the speederbike, grabbing one handle, Skr'tee leaped from the ground and pulled himself up onto the bike. The wind battered his face, throwing back his hood. He howled a curse into the night and sped off after the barge.   
  
        The barge had tremendous speed, far more than that of a speederbike, but could not use it in the cramped streets of the Hutt homeworld. If it were out in the open, not even a landspeeder would hope to catch up with it. But as such, Skr'tee quickly found the barge and rode alongside it. With a flick of a switch, the speederbike flew on automatic, while the bounty hunter stood on the seat, balancing precariously, trying to find the best handhold.   
        _   
        Skr'tee was running on automatic now, the site of the black concrete racing by did not bother the creature in the least, that a miscalculation would end up crushing Skr'tee like an insect. He leapt to the side of the barge, fingers and toes skillfully finding holds without a problem. The thrust of Skr'tee's jump had pushed the speederbike away, which was now racing along pilotless. Skr'tee watched as the bike exploded against a building. Turning back to the climb ahead, Skr'tee slowly inched his way toward the upper deck like a spider, body tight against the ship.   
        Skr'tee was nearly to the top when he spotted the silhouette of a tall figure, keeping to the shadows. The figure was cloaked in a brown robe, face hidden by a ragged hood. The Amanin slipped over the rails and landed softly on the deck. The figure was staring into the distance toward the stern of the ship. Without a sound the bounty hunter made his way toward the figure, slipping between the deck generators. The creature's profile was clear to him now. A soft gasp escaped his mouth.   
        It was Hidda.   
        But that was not possible, Hidda had been completed destroyed in the blast, Skr'tee had seen that himself. Was it possible, however remote, that the Amanin escaped? It would not have been the first time.   
        Hidda heard the quiet noise and turned to face the intruder. His face looked surprised as well but after a few moments the muscles relaxed and the creature turned back to the streets.  Unsure if Hidda was speaking to him, Skr'tee remained hidden.    
        Skr'tee stood to his full height.    
           
        The bounty hunter retreated further into the shadows, muscles tensing ready to spring.  With that the Amanin launched himself at Hidda, his one great hand caught the other Amanin by the throat and squeezed like a vice. His fangs were dripping with saliva. The deck's railing caught Hidda's backward momentum and dug into his flesh. Skr'tee forced his neck back until the only thing Hidda could see was the rushing of the street below him.   
         Skr'tee was now using his feet to pin the other Amanin's body against the railing but before he could get both feet firmly planted, Hidda had recovered from the shock and slipped a knee under Skr'tee's belly.   
        With a terrible grunt, Skr'tee found himself sailing over the railing face first. Screeching, the Amanin reached out and caught the rail with his underdeveloped arm that nearly pulled itself out of the socket as the creature's fall continued its arch, slamming against the side of the sail barge. His good hand was still locked around Hidda's neck.   
        Hidda felt hiss neck nearly snap as Skr'tee fell over the side. He gasped for breath but to no avail. His crimson eyes darkened with the pain. He clawed at Skr'tee's fingers. Through his own skin Hidda could smell Skr'tee's rage, could taste his adrenaline like a sweet nectar.   
        The bounty hunter was using his legs to climb up the railing, still pulling Hidda's neck back. His mouth was only inches away from Hidda's ear.   
           
        Hidda could hardly breathe, let alone speak. 'It was...the...other.'   
        Skr'tee climbed back onto the deck, pulling Hidda with him. He straddled the Amanin, pushing his neck against the deck; hid grip loosened, but only fractionally.    
         Hidda roared with his last remaining breath and bucked beneath Skr'tee. Skr'tee was tossed backwards as the majordomo slipped away. The Amanin struggled to his feet and staggered away, putting distance between him and Skr'tee.   
        Skr'tee stood and started after Hidda.    
        Hidda slipped into the shadows once again, taking refuge behind the deck generators.    
        Expecting an ambush, Skr'tee moved to the center of the deck to the main pole that held the overhead sails. The hunter used his lengthy arms to climb the mast, moving along the frame of the sails. With a terrible scream that echoed into the night, Skr'tee let himself drop between the generators, on top of Hidda. They both tumbled to the deck, their arms tangling together in a desperate struggle.   
         An almost puzzled look appeared on the Amanin's face.    
        With a hiss, Hidda bit into Skr'tee neck with his fangs drawing thick black oil and blood.  the majordomo screamed, ____   
        Their arms locked together again, jaws snapping like rabid dogs.   
        Hidda, still grasping Skr'tee's arms, fell to the ground and pulled the hunter down with him. Still rolling with the momentum, Hidda came to his knees first and pinned the Amanin down. Violently, the Amanin slammed Skr'tee's head against the deck until the back of his green head split, sending streaks of blood over the deck.   
        __ Hidda continued to growl.   
        Skr'tee eventually struggled free, but Hidda was still on the offensive, battering the bounty hunter with his fists, forcing him back toward the edge with each blow.   
        __ Another blow to the face. __   
        Skr'tee stumbled and dropped to the deck. Hidda swung his massive fist again which was stopped in mid air by Skr'tee's own hand. The Amanin stared at his fist with disbelief, now held by Skr'tee. The headhunter should have been unconscious now.   
         Skr'tee glared into Hidda's bloody eyes, still gripping his fist.    
        With that, Skr'tee yanked Hidda's arm, hurling the Amanin over the railing and into the darkness below. He watched the body disappear far below and did not move until Hidda was completely gone from sight. Skr'tee slumped his shoulders with exhaustion, and yet the night's work was not done.   
        There was still Isleff to deal with.   
        He could feel the power of the thrust engines from the other side of the deck plates. Quickly he tore into the plating, creating a hole large enough for him to slip into. The noise of the machinery was deafening, but he did not care, for he would not be there long. His red eyes pierced the darkness as if it was the middle of the day. He was searching for the coolant lines that ran to the thrust generator to prevent it from overheating. The pipes ran below the generator in a maintenance shaft that made up the ceiling to the decks below. Skr'tee ripped another deck plate off and slipped into the maintenance shaft.   
        'This will serve more than one purpose. I can travel unseen, and obtain moisture.'   
        The maintenance shaft was barely large enough for Skr'tee to crawl through. The coolant pipes were dripping with moisture throughout the entire shaft. The first several meters of the shaft had been superheated from the engine and the water leaking from the pipes scorched the hunter's skin and tasted horrible from the radiation. Skr'tee continued on, trying to navigate through the many turns and twists.   
        Screaming could be heard, echoing thorough the corridors. The scream of a female was being broadcast across the ship's communication system. Minutes passed and the screaming did not abate, Skr'tee found himself pleasantly moist from the leaking lines, as he made his way to the personnel quarters. It was not a difficult task to find Hidda's personal quarters, for it was the only room that had a wading pool full of rich Maridun water. There, he found Hidda's staff and a fresh cloak. _

* * * * *

  
        The Amanin entered the main corridor, walking with a confident stride. Several of Isleff's henchmen did not hesitate to move out of his way, but they all gave him a curious glance. Clearly Hidda's death had already reached Isleff.   
        'Isleff did not know of Hidda and the Other.'   
        Skr'tee reached Isleff's audience chamber and was met by a company of guards. The leader, a tall hulk of a Corellian placed a hand on the Amanin's chest to stop him. "Isleff won't be disturbed, not even by you headhunter."   
         Skr'tee fought the urge to massacre the guards and struggled in his mind for the proper words to say. He had consumed some of the Other and so was now familiar with his duties.  The headhunter said.   
        "You're supposed to be dead." the Corellian replied, eliciting laughter from the rest of the company.   
           
        The Corellian nodded, hand falling to his holster. "Listen here headhunter, Isleff is in no mood for this..."   
        The Amanin stepped so he was standing directly against the Corellian, looking down on the pale skinned creature.  Skr'tee bent his back, lowering his face to be even with the guards'.    
        The guard stared into those ruby eyes and felt his courage falter. "All right. It's your head." The rest of the company broke into a fit of laughter allowing the Corellian to appear to walk away from the confrontation with the upper hand.   
        The Amanin pulled the hood over his head before entering Isleff's audience chamber. The Hutt was alone, still searching a datapad for Hidda's replacement. The headhunter entered the chamber, head bowed in a respectful manner. As expected, the Hutt did not acknowledge the creature's presence for several minutes. The Amanin was only a meter away; the Hutt had never looked so vulnerable.   
        Isleff finally peeled his eyes away from the datapad to look at the visitor. His anger surfaced immediately. "Who permitted you inside?" As always, the Hutt offered a question with a most difficult answer. And should the answer displease him, then death was rarely swift. The female's voice screeched across the overhead speakers.   
        The headhunter removed the hood, dropping the entire cloak to the floor.    
        The Hutt's eyes bulged imperceptibly from the surprise, and then began chuckling. "Hidda!" he said, still chuckling, as he stared at the Amanin, Isleff's chuckle turned into a deep laugh that quickly grew out of control. "By all that is indecent on Nar Shadaa! Hidda! I thought you were lost for good this time."   
        His face drew serious. "And so how was it that you escaped the warehouse?   
        And then climbed aboard my barge without my knowing?   
           
        "Ah, mysterious as ever, eh Hidda? You will have to reveal your secrets to me sometime. And as you know, I pay well for such information."   
        The Amanin drew the equivalent to a smile on his face. The screaming of that poor female finally stopped. A strange gleam entered Isleff's eyes as he studied the Amanin.   
        "This charade has grown quite tiresome, has it not Skr'tee?"   
        Before the bounty hunter could reply, The Hutt swirled on his dais, swinging his tail in a furious arc. The tail caught the Amanin across the skull, sending him across the chamber. The blow was hard enough to crush most, but Amanin's were made of something stronger. Skr'tee rolled with the blow and came up standing. Isleff slid from his dais and onto the cold stone floor. His tail lashed out again, this time Skr'tee dodged it, when the tail smashed the wall into a shower of concrete, he realized he made a fatal error.   
        Isleff was now close enough to grab the headhunter with his bare hands. "Did you really think you could take on Isleff the Hutt, bounty hunter?"   
        Isleff had the Amanin by both arms, clasped tightly against its sides. Their noses were only inches apart. Isleff inched himself forward the bulk of his stomach was slowly crawling over the Amanin's feet, trapping him beneath the great weight.   
        Skr'tee struggled, but could not free himself as the Hutt rolled forward like a steamroller, pulling more and more of the creature's body beneath him. Skr'tee could no longer breath, not from the weight against his lungs, but from the smell and feel of the Hutt's skin across his every pore. Every inch of his body screamed in repulsion and still he fought. He thought back to the day he had met Jabba the Hutt and that hand-full of flesh. It was said that not even blaster fire could harm the hide of a Hutt.   
        But it was rare for Skr'tee to use a blaster. Darkness was swallowing the headhunter into its endless deep; Skr'tee opened his mouth and fighting back further disgust, bit into the thick hide. As his teeth clamped down, the hunter jerked his head away, tearing a chunk of flesh away from Isleff.   
        "Ah-ha-ha, a mere insect bite, Skr'tee."   
        He could not bring himself to swallow the morsel. Skr'tee focused on the injured area and began gnawing at the opening, a few seconds later, the Hutt was swatting his pudgy arms at the Amanin, suddenly in great pain. Blood began pumping from the wound, drowning the Amanin in its dark filth. And still the creature dug, deeper into wound until finally Isleff rolled off and he could breath again.   
        Isleff's tail thrashed at everything, while raging in every known tongue and every obscenity he had learned during his long life.   
        Like a mechanical creature, Skr'tee spoke no words, but only limped over to the Hutt, avoiding the deadly snap of the tail until finally they stood face to face. The Amanin wrapped his good arm around the Hutt's neck. His arm wrapped completely around, his fingers found his own shoulder and clasped that. Isleff started to buck as he felt the pressure squeeze into his neck like a vice. This was followed by another entirely different sensation.   
        Skr'tee was pulling with all of his might, the Hutt's neck stretched with each tug, his foot dug into Isleff's stomach, the other braced itself onto the dais. With a sickening snap it was over. Isleff's head tore from his body, sending a deluge of blood across his body. Skr'tee stumbled backwards with his prize. And what a prize it was.   
        Isleff the oldest of all Hutts, never seen without a cloak, was his.   
        Skr'tee slumped to the ground, exhausted. He searched for the nearest tankard even the taste of a hookah pipe would be preferable to the blood that lined his mouth. Something akin to a mental buzzing was pestering the headhunter now; something was trying to surface. Isleff and Hidda were dead, and yet no one else had this information. And as the guards outside Isleff's chamber had proven, Hidda had survived yet another impossible hunt. Skr'tee looked at the headless Hutt, the knowledge and secrets of Isleff's entire empire was only a meal away.   
        Skr'tee made his way to the communications center.    
        The Gran that answered looked surprised to see Hidda's face staring back at him. "Yes sir?"   
            
        "Acknowledged." And with that, the location of Isleff's secret palace would be revealed to him.   
  
        As the **_Filthy Mire_** traveled through hyperspace, Skr'tee relaxed in the pool waters, fresh from Maridun that Hidda and the Other once enjoyed. A thick cloud of brown smoke hung in the air originating from the freshly rolled cigar that hung from his mouth. A silver platter rested on the side of the pool, a hunk of Isleff's meat sat on the tray, buzzing with insects. Beside the meat sat a dirtied vibroblade and several stacks of yellow leaves.   
        'I would thank Ephant Mon if I could. There was far more deception to the Chevin than even Jabba realized.' Skr'tee pulled the cigar out of his mouth, studying it. 'Hutt flesh is a most horrid taste, as vile as a Hutt mind if not prepared properly. I would not know this most excellent taste were it not for Ephant Mon. Now I understand why Mon kept this recipe secret. How many of these did the Chevin and myself enjoy in front of Jabba?'   
        Once the cigar was finished, Skr'tee reached over and sliced another piece of Isleff's flesh and rolled it into another cigar.   
        It was the best cigar he had tasted in a very long time. 


End file.
